Left Behind
by ThisIsPris
Summary: George is all alone after Fred's death, he lost his partner in crime forever. At least, that is what he thinks. But what happens when Fred doesn't seem to be completely gone at all? What if Fred Weasley's mischief wasn't quite managed yet?
1. Chapter 1

**Left Behind (A Fred & George fanfic)**

Introduction

JK Rowling always stated that George was never truly OK again after Fred's death. Of course he wasn't, part of him died with his brother.

But what if the story wasn't over yet? What if Fred Weasley's mischief wasn't nearly managed?

Mischief Managed

George was fine. Walking through Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, _his_ shop, he whistled some song he'd heard earlier that day. He looked around at all the articles, some reminded him of great times he'd had. That one time Fred and he tested the Skiving Snackbox on the first-years – Hermione had been so angry with them. That one time Dudley Dursley ate a Ton-Tongue Toffee, too bad George'd never seen what Dudley's tongue looked like in the end. And that one time Hogwarts would never forget; The great escape of the Weasley-twins. Their firework and portable swamps had done their job to annoy that horrible pink creature that called itself 'Dolores Umbridge'. Not to forget Peeves, who made the woman pay for what she did after they left. Yeah, those were the good times, the good old days.

Now Fred was gone.

George walked to the front of the shop and opened it. Some people were already standing at the front door, waiting to get in. However, it was nothing like the usual crowd that peeked through the windows just before September 1, when all the Hogwarts students were buying the stuff they needed in Diagon Alley. George smiled at the customers, made some small talk and made sure everybody was having a good time. In the meantime, he thought of Angelina. He'd been so lucky to have her. Because of her, he managed to get on with his life. She was the only one who could put a smile on his face.

Well, that was not entirely true, was it? He had a family now, he was a dad. And his two kids were everything to him. Fred, named after his deceased uncle, of course, was the oldest of the two. He was in 3th year of Hogwarts right now and couldn't have been more like his dad in his younger days. He seemed to get on pretty well with his nephew, James, Ginny and Harry's son. They were probably Hogwarts' third generation of pranksters. Little Roxanne went to Hogwarts for the first time this year, she'd been sorted into Gryffindor – as was her brother – and she was a bit more quiet than Fred. She was one kind little girl, but had a strong mind and when she wanted something, it had to be done. They both were great and lovely children. Yeah, George was quite lucky.

Even the thought of his brother didn't make him feel completely miserable anymore. There had been a time when Angelina and Molly, his dear mother, had thrown all the mirrors out of the house, because every time George saw himself, he saw Fred's face instead of his own. That had changed a long time ago. His face had grown older, while Fred's would never change again.

George had lost so much since that 2nd of May, 1998. He'd never laugh again as loudly and honestly as he did before. He had to run the shop all by himself now (Ron helped him every now and then, but that wasn't the same). He had never been able to cast a Patronus again, though he hadn't admitted this to anyone yet. On top of all that, of course, he would never be with Fred again. Sometimes he wondered how he'd gotten this far without Fred. They had been twins, brothers, friends, companions, partners in crime… But that was all over now. Never again would he hear his brother's laugh.

But George was fine – he had to be.

That night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, two dark figures marched down the corridors. With no fear of getting caught, James and Fred were talking and laughing loudly.

"Didn't uncle Fred always do pranks like this with your dad?" James asked suddenly.

"I suppose so," said Fred, "Dad doesn't talk about him much, but mum told me they were really close. They did _everything_ together."

"Well, that's not strange is it? They were twins. You're even named after him."

Fred nodded; his jolly mood was gone now. He had seen some pictures of his dad. On most of them, he couldn't even tell who was his dad, he and uncle Fred looked so much alike. On every single one of them, the twins were laughing the exact same smile, a smile Fred never saw on his dad's face anymore.

Suddenly, there was a clattering sound and an 'AUCH!'.

"You didn't just walk into one of the suits of armor _again_, did you?"

"It's so dark here, it's not like I did it on purpose!" James shrugged.

Fred laughed while James cursed. Luckily, they knew the castle by heart. This surely wasn't the first time they got out of the common room at night.

"I still can't believe it though, your dad as a joker. I mean, he has the Wheezes and all, but still…" James couldn't quite imagine it.

"He was, though, he and uncle were _the_ pranksters of the school, right before the Second War." Fred walked on with his head held high, as if he were the proudest man on earth. "Uncle Ron told me everybody liked them. They were funny, smart and just as unpredictable as can be."

"Bet we could've learnt a lot from them…" said James.

"Sshhh!" someone whispered from the dark. "Go to bed, you two! Go to your common room! We're trying to sleep over here!"

Both Fred and James knew what was making the noise, but in spite of that James pulled his wand and whispered "Lumos!". A small sphere of light appeared at the end of the wand and suddenly they could see the entire corridor.

"Put that light out!" The same voice sneered on their right. In one of the portraits, a grey-haired man held his hands in front of his eyes. "Why is it _always_ the little Gryffindors sneaking through the castle like that at this time of night? You better leave, before I decide to inform the headmaster about your little trip!"

James and Fred looked at each other, amused.

"Oh we're terribly sorry, sir." James said formally. "We never meant to wake you up. We were heading for our common room anyway. Sleep well!"

James lowered his wand and the little light went out. In silence – trying hard not to laugh – they walked on, but not to the Gryffindor common room.

A little later, the duo reached the place they had to be: The girls' toilets on the first floor. Fred opened the bag he had taken and took out a small package.

"Portable swamps! Best invention ever!" James grinned.

They positioned the package in the middle of the room and activated it.

No one knew that at that exact moment, something changed on the Marauders' Map, which lay in a drawer - long forgotten by Harry and not yet found by James. For Fred Weasley Jr. wasn't the only Fred that was to be seen in the girls' toilets on the first floor on the Map. Because where ever mayhem or mischief is caused, Fred Weasley is there.


	2. Chapter 2

2. Inspiration

"You two are the WORST GRYFFINDORS EVER! Why did you do this? How could you? Didn't you think about Gryffindor, and the points it would cost us? Do you actually want Slytherin to win the House Cup just so you could scare some girls? Well? Do you?" Isabelle was standing in front of Fred and James with an angry look on her face. The hotheaded girl was in their year and always succeeded in extremely annoying both of them.

"Really, Isabelle, we told you…" Fred began with a sigh.

"We didn't do _anything._" James continued. "As if we'd _ever_ risk house points like that! We wouldn't even dare, right Fred?"

Fred put on a sad face. "Totally, I even feel slightly insulted."

The remaining Gryffindors in the common room chuckled. Isabella gasped, sighed dramatically and, as she saw nobody was sharing her opinion, made a quick escape through the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"So it's true then," Michel, a friend of them, said, "You two _did_ put the portable swamp in the girls' toilets!"

"Of course we did,"

"Who else would've invented such a brilliant and amazing prank?" James said with a crooked smile.

A few fourth years padded them on their backs and Fred even saw the two Gryffindor prefects standing in a corner of the room with smiles on their faces.

"Did you actually do this? Tell us all about it!" an enthusiastic second-year said.

James immediately began his story. Fred laughed at the way James managed to show them off as true heroes – of course, the part where James walked into the suit of armor was left untold – and he himself made some remarks to make the tale sound even more exciting.

They'd had their problems that morning, when Spurcus, the caretaker, had given them a monologue that went on and on for what seemed like hours. "You RUINED school property! You IGNORED at least 30 school rules! And who is going to clean this mess?"

When Fred answered this rhetorical question with "Probably you, dear caretaker.", Spurcus had sent them away, cursing and promising he wouldn't rest until he saw them punished.

Many other people – both students and teachers – had shown their disapproval too. But Fred really didn't mind all of that right now. He felt great, actually. They'd done something the whole school had taken notice off. They meant something now. He even felt a bit like his uncle Fred now, a joker, a pranker, loved by – almost – everyone.

The door of George's attic opened and hit the wall with a bang. Angelina stood in the doorway with red cheeks and a paper clamped in her hand. George raised his eyebrows and turned to face her, quickly putting the stuff he had been working on out of sight.

"This is unbelievable." Angelina sighed. "Unbelievable."

Had it been years earlier, George would have come up with numerous of theories of what Angelina was about to say. He and Fred would've been able to talk and laugh all afternoon about one silly little thing. However, right now his only reply was. "What?"

"We got a letter from Harry and Ginny," Angelina pointed out, handing him the paper. "Or actually, it's a letter from Neville, from Hogwarts."

George took the letter from her and looked at the shiny crest at its top. He saw the four animals – serpent, eagle, badger and lion – that represented the houses and allowed himself to think back of his free careless years at the castle.

"Our dear little Fred and his inseparable companion James Sirius Potter seem to have caused some mischief at school." Angelina began. "They managed to get out of their common room last night and activated multiple portable swamps in the girls' toilets."

"Neville says the teachers couldn't prove it was them, but that he's fairly sure of it." George corrected her with a grin after reading the letter. "They can't prove anything."

Angelina looked at him with an unbelieving glance. "You don't think they're completely innocent, do you?"

"Of course not. I'm just saying they did a good job." He shrugged his shoulders. "Since there's no evidence they actually did it."

"Maybe they'll pull a Weasley theirselves eventually!" Angelina laughed suddenly.

George looked up, surprised because she mentioned Fred in some way, but smiled.

"We should be really angry with them, shouldn't we?" Angelina asked.

"So angry."

"You aren't angry at all, are you?"

"Not a bit."

A chuckle, followed by a long silence. Naturally George's mind wandered off to his own pranks. A swamp in the girl's toilets, that's not bad at all. It wasn't nearly as good as the firework during the exams, but it was a fair start. And not exactly unexpected, he had to add. Fred Jr. was his son, it would have been quite a surprise if he hadn't pulled a prank like this at all.

"What were you working on?" Angelina suddenly asked, watching the pieces of paper, tape and bottles on George's desk.

"I tried to come up with something new for the Wheezes." George sighed, suddenly feeling down again.

"You tried?"

"I came up with nothing. Zero."

"Don't worry, you'll think of something in the end. You always do." Angelina put her arms around him.

"And what if I don't? What if one day my inspiration will just be finished? What if I can't do this alone anymore?" George looked down.

"As I said, love, don't worry. I have the feeling Fred will soon be there to help you."

"Which one, exactly?"

Angelina smiled.

"Both of them, of course, if you want them to."


	3. Chapter 3

Angelina's Story

She always knew life with George wasn't going to be easy. She knew this even before the Second War. Not a day at Hogwarts had gone by without a joke from Fred and George, even after their great 'escape' from Umbridge people talked about the twins every single day. A further life with one of them as a husband would've been crazy, every day would've brought a prank; a pillowcase that exploded once you touched it, the kitchen table that began dancing when you put dinner down… If only her future would've looked like that.

The life she had now was a whole different kind of difficult. Instead of the daily jokes, she had to deal with daily depression and pain from her husband. Of course Angelina herself wasn't OK either. Fred had been her friend, a very good friend indeed. She still remembered the Yule Ball, he had asked her, danced with her. Yes, she must admit, she liked him.

And then he died. Just like that. Gone.

Life isn't fair, Angelina kept thinking, it just isn't fair. There was no other explanation for what happened to Fred. She had seen him, lying in the Great Hall with an eternal smile etched on his face, the whole Weasley family standing around him, devastated. And then of course there was George. When Angelina saw him through her tears, she was sure she _saw _that something about George had permanently changed, like some part of him had died. That's when she truly realized the school was at war – and losing.

The weeks after that, she and George talked a lot. Angelina found that she understood George, if it was only for the slightest bit. They slowly grew closer and closer and then, one day, she realized she didn't really see George as a normal friend anymore. Angelina had wondered, at first: did she really like George or was it just the vague image of Fred she saw in him that she liked? Of course she knew now it wasn't just Fred's memory. George had changed a lot since the War and she was his closest friend, the only one he was willing to open up to. They eventually got together, because of their shared grief over Fred. Call it romantic or call it terrible, but Angelina was happy they had.

Times were difficult after the War. Angelina remembered that time she visited the Weasleys. George had done his first prank in months, she couldn't remember exactly what it was, but it had contained an explosion, naturally. Mrs. Weasley wasn't happy at all and that's when all hell broke loose.

"FRED! TRY TO BEHAVE FOR ONC…" Mrs. Weasley had stopped in the middle of her sentence and the whole room went silent. George had looked at her for a brief moment and rushed upstairs afterwards. Mrs. Weasley wept the whole afternoon and George refused to come out of his room. She, Ron and Hermione, who had witnessed the whole thing too, had sat in the living room the rest of the day. Talking occasionally and about nothing in particular, until mr. Weasley came back from work and they had to explain everything to him.

She also remembered that one time she'd talked to Percy at The Burrow. He blamed himself for Fred's death, he had told her. He was the one who had been distracting him during the fight, because of some stupid joke. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, if he had shut up, Fred wouldn't have died. Angelina knew it was nonsense, Percy was in no way responsible for what happened to Fred.

She had never liked Percy that much, he was way too serious and always tried to kill Fred and George's good sense of humor. However, that one proper conversation changed her thoughts on him. She felt sorry for him and even though he was being ridiculous, Angelina understood him. Had she been in his place, she would've never forgiven herself.

And she knew that in that aspect, Percy wasn't that different from her.

George had had his ups and downs after their marriage. Some days he was perfectly fine – at least, he seemed to be – and other days Angelina could see the pain in his eyes. One of the worst times was when George went completely crazy every time he looked in the mirror, seeing Fred's face instead of his own. Angelina and Mrs. Weasley had to carefully cover all the mirrors George hadn't broken yet. The day after, George had come up to Angelina with a guilty look on his face. He told her he was terribly sorry for what he had done and he didn't know how to apologize. She had hugged him and they both cried.

Luckily, those downfalls didn't occur that often anymore from the moment Fred Jr. was born. Angelina finally felt like they were able to built up a normal life now. Both George and she herself were scarred, but life went on. And Angelina knew they'd get through it, they'd manage somehow.

Poor Angelina, if only she knew what was coming. If only she knew the hardest part hadn't even started yet.


	4. Chapter 4

A Christmas Snitch

It was December 25, Christmas. The holidays at Hogwarts had started a few days earlier and the Weasley's and Potters had gone home to celebrate this time of year. They all gathered at Ginny and Harry's house, it had become a tradition over the years to celebrate Christmas there with the whole family, since their house was the only one big enough to host everyone. And, knowing that the family consisted of 26 people, you'd still be surprised it all fitted in one living room.

Harry and Ginny had decorated the whole house while the kids were still at school. There was a big Christmas tree (not as big as the ones at Hogwarts, of course) with shiny golden baubles, silvery garlands, Christmas lights that changed colour and even real muggle candy canes. A little Santa danced on top of the tree and sang Christmas songs on the most inconvenient moments. The rest of the house was covered in strings, ribbons and Christmas wreaths.

The moment the Weasley's had arrived, James and Fred had enchanted the toilet. They'd charmed a toilet seat at Hogwarts so that every time someone flushed the toilet, snow began to fall down. Uncle Charlie was the first one to experience this and didn't have any hard feelings, he even complemented the two on their magic.

Soon everyone had arrived and was talking to each other, catching up with everything that happened lately. Fleur, Hermione and Angelina were complementing Ginny on the decorations. Charlie and Bill sat in the big armchairs in the living room, discussing a job Charlie lately had to do in Romania. Dominique – who had always shown a particular interest in dragons – listened closely, trying to understand what they were talking about. George and Ron watched carefully as Lily, Roxanne and Rose enthusiastically showed them all the Christmas presents they . Victoire and Teddy were sitting in a corner, talking silently to one another, laughing occasionally. Harry had found his snitch somewhere in a drawer again and Albus and Hugo ran through the living room, trying to catch the little golden ball.

Basically, everyone was enjoying themselves and having a good time. Well… Almost everyone.

Uncle Percy was talking to James, Fred and Louis about his 'Prefect achievements' and how all the teachers had been 'oh so proud' of him when he stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays to make sure the students didn't misbehave. Louis, with his blonde short hair and dark eyes, glanced at uncle Bill, his dad, with an annoyed look on his face. Fred and James took turns sighing to show how 'interesting' they thought prefects were. Of course uncle Percy didn't notice this and just chattered on and on.

"Did I tell you about the hard times during the opening of the Chamber of Secrets already?"

Fred tried to tell him he did, about 14 times at least, but Percy interrupted him immediately and began his story.

"The whole school was panicking, everyone was terrified. Some of the pupils even considered your dad" – he nodded towards James – "as the Heir of Slytherin!"

James raised an eyebrow, he'd probably read exactly the same in one of his History of Magic books – not that he ever read those.

"Anyway, Professor Dumbledore told the Head Boys and Girls to keep an eye out, we even had to guard the school during night time! Naturally, we were among the people who kept calm while these horrible events took place. I remember this one night when…"

James sighed again. He caught Fred looking at him and grinned. Louis stood up and walked, without saying a thing to uncle Percy, towards Hugo and Albus, who were still trying to grab the snitch.

It will be New Year's Eve before he's done talking! James thought. Looking around, he tried to find a way to escape this exaggerated historical monologue. He admitted he wasn't the most subtle or nicest person in this room, but walking away from uncle Percy without saying a word like Louis had done was a bit rude, even for him.

"… Professor McGonall called me in and told me I was doing a fine job. She even told me it was likely I would become a Prefect! Therefore, I already knew…"

"Ehm… I'm sorry to interrupt your highly interesting story," James said, "but I have to go… ehm… to the toilet!"

When Percy nodded and turned toward Fred to continue his story, Fred threw a look at James that screamed 'Traitor!'. James gave him a crooked smile in return and jumped up from his chair.

He walked through the hall, but didn't head to the toilet. He had thought of another prank he wanted to play and the toilet was the first and easiest excuse he had been able to come up with on the spur of the moment. He had thought of this joke some time ago, when he and Fred were walking through the castle at night, but he hadn't shared the idea with his nephew. He had to do this alone, so he thought. Of course this was because he wanted to impress Fred and maybe even uncle George, but he would never admit that.

He quickly tiptoed up the stairs into his room and grabbed the stuff he needed. Then he went to his father's office. He was already busy unpacking and setting up some articles from uncle George's shop when he saw one of the drawers of his dad's desk was open. Out of pure curiosity he looked into the drawer and saw a bunch of papers. Nothing special, really, and still something made James open the drawer further. He took out the papers and looked through them. Some letters from the ministry of magic – easily to recognize because of the crest –, a few cut out articles from the Daily Prophet, even some muggle mail. However, somewhere in the middle of the pile James found a yellowish folded piece of parchment with words written in a curly handwriting on it.

"_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs_," James read out loud, "_are proud to present the Marauder's Map_. What on earth is a Marauder's Map?"

He opened up the mysterious paper and what he saw blew his mind. It was a map, but that wasn't the first thing he noticed. He saw some parts of the map _moving_. Little dots, little footprints on the map were moving across the paper, carrying nametags.

As soon as he realized what he was looking at, James started to run downstairs. Halfway down the stairs, however, he changed his mind and hurried back upstairs. He collected all the things he had initially brought for his prank and took everything back to his room. The map he hid in a secret part of his closet (he had made this hiding place right after his first year at Hogwarts, just in case).

Then he ran downstairs again.

Back in the living room he rushed toward Fred, who had just caught Harry's snitch.

"Fred!" James whispered. "I _have_ to show you something!"

Fred saw a look of amazement on James face he had never seen before and let the snitch go.

"Show me!"


	5. Chapter 5

5. Plans

Fred immediately followed James upstairs. He saw Percy looking at them, wondering why they were in a hurry, but Fred didn't really care about that. He just wanted to know what James was about to show him. He knew it had to be something amazing, James expression had already given that away.

They sprinted upstairs – James nearly missed a step of the stairs – and into James' bedroom.

"So, tell me!" Fred said as he sat down on James' closed trunk.

"Okay," James began, "So I was in dad's office, preparing a little prank, when I saw…"

"WAIT. You prepared a prank… Without me?"

"Yeah, well… Do you want to hear my story or not?"

Fred nodded.

"Ok, dad's office. And when I glanced at his desk, I saw one of the drawers standing slightly open. I wanted to see what was in there, so I dropped the prank and went to take a look."

A creaking noise gave away that another person had entered the room.

"Little James Sirius secretly looking into his father's properties? Causing mischief everywhere he goes? Kreacher should tell his master about this misbehavior!"

Fred froze; he had never liked the house-elf. Fred knew he had nothing to be afraid of, Kreacher was completely harmless, just an old, grumpy elf that had been in the family for a very long time. At least, that was what Fred thought. Harry had freed the elf after the War, but Kreacher had caught a hint of Dobby's spirit, he appreciated Harry in a way. That's why, after working in the kitchens of Hogwarts for some time, he had gone back to the Potters to serve them. He was, in fact, a free elf. Fred knew nothing of this story and disliked Kreacher, because he always seemed so irritated and grumpy.

James, however, was more than used to the elf.

"Kreacher, just go away. We all know you're not gonna tell dad anything unless he specifically asks for it." he sighed, "Now leave us alone, please, will you?"

Kreacher had no choice but to leave.

"Of course, master, of course." And so he did, making his way out of the room shuffling and muttering to himself.

Fred put his mind to the secret again and James continued his story. He said he'd seen an odd piece of parchment in the drawer. He immediately walked towards his closet to get it and handed it over to Fred.

"Woah," Fred said, looking at the front of the paper, "Marauder's Map? What is it?"

"Just look!" James opened the parchment.

"Is that… It _can't_ be!"

"It is! A map of Hogwarts!"

"And the moving dots…"

"People, walking there this very moment, at least, that's what I think. See?" James pointed at a dot carrying the name of 'Neville Longbottom'.

"That's Professor Longbottom, walking towards the greenhouses."

Both of the boys took a minute to admire their latest discovery.

"I do wonder though," James interrupted the silence.

"What?"

"Who are those people, the creators. Wormtail, Prongs, Moony… Strange names, don't you think?"

"Are you crazy?" Fred raised his voice.

"Ssssshhhh!" James pointed at the door.

"Who cares where this came from," Fred continued in a hushed voice, "do you realize what this means? The pranks we can pull off if we can trust this thing? The possibilities we have now?"

James eyes widened and he laughed as he imitated their uncle Ron. "Bloody hell!"

The days passed quickly and soon it was time to go back to Hogwarts. Roxanne and Fred said goodbye to their parents and after a hug and a promise not to cause too much problems at school (the latter was mainly meant for Fred) they left again with the Hogwarts Express. Fred sat in a compartment with James, Louis, Michel, Sophie and Roxanne. Their company caused an awkward but tense silence from both James and Fred, all they could think about and wanted to talk about was the map and the ideas they had to cause the school trouble that even Peeves would cheer for. However, they wanted to keep the map a secret, so they promised each other only to talk about it whenever they were alone.

"Why so quiet, you two?" Sophie asked, she was a muggle-born second year Gryffindor who was close friends with Louis, who was in the same year. "Not planning any mischief, are you?"

"Not yet!" James said.

Fred couldn't help but laugh.

Harry entered his office on the first floor. He'd had a few busy days at the Ministry and after bringing the kids to London, he was relieved he could sit down for a moment. His job as an Auror wasn't as difficult as 20 years ago, when Voldemort was at his strongest and the whole wizarding world was practically breaking down, but he still had much to do.

He sat down behind his desk, sighed and looked at some papers from the ministry he had to deal with. Suddenly he saw the little Golden snitch lying on his desk, Ginny had probably put it there, he thought. He picked it up and looked at it for a minute. This was the first snitch he had ever caught and he was still pretty proud of it. Not to mention the fact that he had almost swallowed it, instead of just catching it, of course.

He put it back in the drawer he'd found it in and noticed something odd. The usual bunch of papers was quite disordered and something was missing.

"Ginny, could you come here for a minute, please!" Harry yelled. Ginny immediately showed up in the little office.

"What's wrong?"

"Did you take the Marauder's Map out of this drawer?"

Ginny looked at him with wonder. "Now, why would I want to take the Map?"

"I don't know, but it's gone. And I didn't touch it in a long time."

At the exact same moment Ginny and Harry understood what had happened at glanced at each other.

"James!"

"You didn't think he actually took the Map without asking, do you?" Harry said.

"It's James, it's our kid. Of course he did!" Ginny laughed. "But it isn't that bad, is it? I mean, he did enter your office and took something without permission, but what's the worst that can happen once he has the Map? You got it in your third year too. You didn't misuse it back at Hogwarts, did you?"

Harry threw an unbelieving look her way.

"Never mind," Ginny laughed, "I take that back."


	6. Chapter 6

6. The kitchens

"C'mon guys! Hurry up!" Michel whispered. He tiptoed on enthusiastically through the 2nd floor corridor.

James sighed. "Why did we take him again?"

"He was the one who came up with the idea, wasn't he? And… Well. I don't know." Fred answered, not looking up from the piece of parchment in his hands.

"He's a bit too happy and noisy about this, in my opinion."

"What did you say, James? I just can't believe we're actually doing this. I mean, you guys are some kind of professionals already, but this is totally new for me. And that map you found, just _amazing_, don't you think? I just hope we won't get caught. Could you imagine the trouble we'd be in if we were? Spurcus would literally _kill_ us! But that's why it's so exciting to do this, I think. Don't you?" Michel just talked on and on.

"Michel, please." James said. "You had a very good idea and that's why we took you, but talking that loud at three a.m. will surely wake Spurcus up. So if you don't mind…"

"I'll be quiet! I'll be quiet!"

"That's likely." Fred murmured in a sarcastic voice. "Now sssshhh! Here's the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's office. We don't wanna wake _him_ up, do we?"

All three of them silently walked through the rest of the corridor. Once they'd reached the stairs that lead them to the first floor, Fred folded back the Map, so that the ground plan of this floor was visible.

"Wait a minute! Let me see that other page again." James urged.

"What about it?" Fred asked as he showed the second floor map to the others.

"Who's Myrtle?" James pointed at a certain point of the map, somewhere in the girls lavatory.

"I have no idea." Fred shrugged. "But she doesn't seem to have a last name. Odd."

Michel grinned. "Maybe it's a student! Let's take a look!"

"Uhm, Michel," Fred began.

"I don't think it's likely any students are on the toilet at this time of night." James continued.

"Moreover, I don't know any students that are named Myrtle, do you?"

"What, you never go to the loo while doing a prank?" Michel laughed.

"Let's just walk on already, shall we?" James sighed.

Only a few minutes later they reached the basements and stood in front of the kitchens.

"But how do we know for sure that no one is going to see us?" Michel asked, slightly scared.

Fred and James looked from him to the map and back again.

"Oh…. right. Never mind."

They tickled the pear in a portrait (George had once told Fred II to do this in order to get a nice meal outside mealtimes), which then turned into a doorknob. Excited, they opened the door and set foot in a place they had never been before.

"Woah!" Michel exclaimed admiringly. "This is _amazing_!"

There wasn't a single house-elf in the Hogwarts kitchens, probably because the headmaster allowed them to sleep at night. Since Professor Dumbledore had been headmaster, the lives of the elves had changed positively. This was a good thing, because the trio didn't have any difficulties doing their prank now.

They quickly walked towards the four huge tables that corresponded with the tables in the Great Hall, which was right above them.

"How did you even get this idea, Michel?" James asked.

"Oh, I don't know. My parents were talking about those Weasley Wheezes products during the holidays, about how popular they were so many years ago. But now, not many people buy them anymore. It's a shame, really."

"Ah well, my dad came up with other brilliant things since then, didn't he?" Fred proudly said as he emptied his bag.

The next half hour was spent exchanging the food that was already prepared for the next day with sweets from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Custard creams became Canary Creams, Fainting Fancies were draped over the sandwiches, even some Nosebleed Nougat was hidden between the breakfast delights, both the orange and the purple version.

"How did you even manage to get all this stuff?" Michel asked.

"Duh, his dad is the owner." James said.

"Yeah, it was kinda weird, actually." Fred told the others. "I didn't know how to get it and since our next trip to Hogsmeade was still so far away, I wrote to dad, asking if he could send some of the old Skiving Snackboxes. Strangely enough, he said yes."

"Wait, he just said yes? Knowing you'd probably use it on the entire school?" James said surprised. "I thought you'd just slipped into your dad's office to take some. That's what I did." He pointed at the map.

"Yes, but not all of us like to steal from their parents, do we?" Fred said.

"What? I apologized!"

"You did, after you received that howler."

Michel grinned.

"Anyway, my dad sent me the boxes and a note along with it." Fred searched his pockets and took a little paper out of it, handing it over to James. "Here, read it."

"'_So you can continue where we left off_.'" James read. "We? As in uncle Fred?"

"I think so…"

Fred walked towards the table that corresponded with Slytherin's table and took a sandwich. "The more we eat, the less they have, right?"

Michel laughed and took a sandwich too. James, on the other hand, took up the Map once again and looked at it. He saw the three little dots that presented Michel, Fred and himself standing in the Kitchens. But wait… What was that?

"Woah!" James exclaimed.

"What?" Fred and Michel said simultaneously, their mouths full of sandwiches.

James kept his eyes fixed on the Map, not seeing what he had just a second ago. "I thought I saw… Never mind."


	7. Chapter 7

7. Truth will out

The following day could easily be added to the coming version of 'Hogwarts – A History' – at least, in Fred's opinion. Breakfast started off normal, everyone took their seats at around the same time, since it was a normal school day. James, Michel and Fred looked around the entire time, waiting for hell to break loose. Some 6th and 7th years students looked at the food and the sweet suspiciously. They probably vaguely remembered it from a long time ago, when these products were still popular. Some of the elder students had whispered conversations with one another, pointing at the sweets with a questioning look on their faces. None of them grabbed one of the colorful packed sweets.

The first- and second years weren't as reluctant, it didn't take long till they heard a little 'plop'. A small Hufflepuff girl was very true to her house colors now: She was covered in large yellow feathers and she yelled – no, cheeped – that somebody had to help her.

Ironically on that very moment several other 'plops' were to be heard. A few other canaries now mingled in the back of the Great Hall. Other students had unstoppable nose bleeds and huge swollen tongues. Some even fainted over the table, their faces lying in their breakfast. One second year from Slytherin must have been extremely hungry, for he looked like a large bleeding canary who couldn't stop puking.

Of course everyone soon stopped eating and looked around instead, so not many children were the victim of the prank. Nonetheless, Fred, James and Michel had the time of their lives. Some of the other students had to laugh too, others were disgusted, but that was mostly because of the puking pastilles.

Spurcus just returned from the Trophy Room with a mop in his one and a bucket of water in his other hand, probably hoping to be able to clean up the mess. Most of the teachers were running to and fro, handing the sick students the healing part of the candy. Professor Bonmodus from Potions seemed to be in a particulary good mood, he had a good sense of humor and even winked at James and Fred with a grin on his face.

Unfortunately, not all teachers were amused. Professor Longbottom was talking to Professor McGonagall, who was headmaster of Hogwarts. It didn't take long till Professor Longbottom walked toward the Gryffindor table, straight at our prankers.

"So, boys. I think we all know who was responsible for this. Don't we?" He looked from James to Fred and back.

Both of the boys knew it was useless to deny it, so they just laughed. Michel, who wasn't accused of anything, had a bit of a sad look on his face.

"I'm sorry to say this… But 10 points from Gryffindor. For each of you." Professor Longbottom pointed at the two boys.

"And what kind of detention do we get?" Michel butted in.

Professor Longbottom looked at him, surprised. "What? You're not telling me you were part of this too?"

Michel nodded, as if he was proud he was about to get detention.

"Well, uhm…" Professor Longbottom was hesitating for a moment. "Since you're a Gryffindor too and I'm your Head of House, 10 points from Gryffindor for you too. And you'll surely get detention."

"Thanks, Michel." Fred and James said sarcastically.

In the meanwhile the Great Hall had calmed down a bit. Spurcus was already diligently mopping the floor while the students headed to their lessons or (for those still covered in blood, puke or feathers) their common room. Professor McGonagall had followed professor Longbottom to the Gryffindor table and was now standing near the boys. The bright eyes in her aging face twinkled.

"I can't ignore the rules, so punishment is necessary." Her thin lips curved into a slight smile. "But you're just like your dad and your uncle. They would be proud if they'd seen this 20 years ago."

Professor Longbottom couldn't hide a smile.

Only a week later James was standing in front of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, alone. It was about 2pm, lessons were in progress at that very moment. James should be at his History of Magic lesson right now, but he'd asked professor Binns if he could go to the toilet – that seemed to become a standard excuse for him now. Now he just had to wait.

When the school bell rang, he looked at the door of the classroom expectantly. Soon the door opened and a group of fifth years Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs came out, some recognized James and greeted him. James nodded and made his way into the classroom.

A man with black messy hair was packing his small briefcase, his back was to the door so he didn't see James coming.

"Dad?" James called out.

The man turned around. "Well, well. If it isn't our James. Enjoying detention, are we?" James knew his dad would give a lecture in Defence Against the Dark Arts that day, he thought that was the perfect time for this conversation, since this would probably be the only time he'd see him before the holidays.

"It isn't that bad. We have to clean parts of the castle without using magic." James laughed. "I thought it'd be far worse, cleaning everything with a toothbrush or something like that."

Harry grinned.

"No really, James, what you did was _very_ irresponsible. You were very lucky your mum didn't send another Howler your way."

"Yeah dad, I know. I will never ever do it again and I'm very sorry."

Harry raised a brow. "You don't mean a word of what you're saying, do you?"

"Not really."

"You are so much like your granddad." Harry shook his head. "But if you didn't come here to apologize, why are you here?"

"Well, I wanted to ask something." James looked up to his dad and continued. "That night, in the Kitchens, we had the Marauder's Map with us." He took the Map out of his pocket and gave it to his dad. "I'm giving it back by the way. I shouldn't have stolen it."

His dad took the Map and pointed his wand at it. "Mischief Managed." The letters on the front disappeared. James was amazed.

"Wait… Where did everything go?"

Harry laughed and quickly explained how to make the letters appear and disappear. Afterwards he gave the Map back to his son. "I got the Map in my third year too, so I think it is only fair for you to have it. If," He added quickly, "you promise to use it with more responsibility from now on!"

James gladly took the map. "Thanks dad! But I don't think it works properly."

"What?" Harry said. "What makes you think that?"

"That night in the Kitchens, I saw something that isn't possible. I think the map _lied_ to me."

"The map _never_ lies!" Harry said, quoting his favorite DADA teacher of all time.

"It must have!" James insisted.

"What did you see then? What did the map show you?"

James took a breath.

"I saw Fred Weasley. Twice."


	8. Chapter 8

8. Breakdown

The room was dark. Like a ghost of the past was lingering there, desperately trying to bring light to the people in it, but making the candles dim their flames instead. Ironic, Angelina thought, though she didn't laugh – didn't even smile. What was happening was a mystery to her. A ghost of the past, could it really be?

No, it couldn't.

She closed the door of the attic and walked towards her husband's desk. The wood underneath her feet creaked, making her doubt the decision she made. Maybe leaving it all unsaid was for the better.

George turned around and faced her, his desk was full of papers, some written on, some blank and some with drafts on them. In a corner of the room stood a locked wooden cage, a growling noise came out of it.

"You really don't want to know what's in there." George said. "But I promise it'll be out of here as soon as possible!"

Angelina forced a smile. "You… You thought of something new?"

"You told me I'd manage, and I did! I just have to experiment a bit and it'll still take a lot of work, but the idea came to me!" George had never looked happier, which made Angelina feel even worse about herself.

"How was the visit?" George asked while scribbling some notes underneath a draft of something that looked a bit like a cannon. "How are Gin and Harry doing?"

"Uhm… Yeah, they're doing just fine." Angelina lifted a pile of drawings of Pygmy Puffs – available in five colors and seven different designs – from a spare chair and sat down next to George. "I have to tell you something."

"What did Fred do this time? Make a house elf float? I'm also still waiting for another toilet seat to come in with the mail by the way." George joked, he grabbed all the papers on his desk and neatly sorted them out. Angelina saw more drawings of the weirdest things passing by, though she couldn't tell what they represented.

"Actually it's about what Fred has done last time. What he has seen last time, to be exact." Angelina looked down at her hands, still not knowing whether this was going to sound like good or bad news to George.

George laughed at her, one hand on her shoulder. "About the kitchens? C'mon Angelina, it can't be that bad!"

Angelina took a breath and quickly said the words that had been bothering her since Harry had told her. "James saw Fred that night, in the kitchens, on the Marauder's Map." She saw George's confused look and continued. "George, he saw Fred Weasley, _twice_!"

George froze, thinking. "You mean… You can't be serious."

Angelina nodded.

In all those years, George had carefully built up a wall, completely surrounding himself. Every day, every hour, another brick of fake laughs, denial and – later on – real loving moments was added and attached to the rest of the wall with great caution. In all those years, he'd closed himself off from the world, from the pain, forcing himself to remember only the happy moments and concentrate on his life – right here, right now.

But then, with the realizations of these simple words, the whole wall came tumbling down, leaving nothing but a total mess of bits and pieces. George dropped the pile of papers he was holding and one of them slipped into the candle, catching fire immediately. The flames made the room look lighter, but George was lost in the dark.

His hand slid from Angelina's shoulder.

He couldn't comprehend it, couldn't fit the pieces together. This isn't possible. He didn't hope, he didn't even _dare_ to hope. Someone was messing with him. He hadn't even thought of the possibilities yet, if this story was true indeed. The only thing he could do was remember that awful night, when he saw his brother in the Great Hall, motionless and his eyes staring without seeing.

"George?" Angelina hesitated, not knowing what to say. "Are – are you okay?"

He didn't answer, one single tear rolled down his cheek.

"I understand, George, it must be so difficult for you. After all this time, the idea of him being there again, it must be so difficult. But I understand, George, I understand!" Angelina stammered.

"You don't understand!" George burst out suddenly. He turned his back to her, not wanting to see her face. "How could you ever, really."

"Then explain it to me, George, please!" Angelina was close to crying, shocked by George's outburst.

George buried his face in his hands, trying to find a way to explain himself. However, he knew no words could describe what he was feeling. "It's like I'm screaming, and no one can hear. It feels as if I'm drowning and everybody is watching me, but no one will help me. I'm ashamed, of how incapable I am of living without him by my side. I'm scared the pain will go away some day, the memory will fade. And it's killing me, every single day. The mere thought of him, of having lost him forever… It tears me up inside."

Angelina couldn't stand the sight of her husband breaking down like this. She stood up and walked around the desk, kneeling before George, her hands on his knees. "Please don't cry." She sniffed.

He lifted his head, his tears blurred his vision, making the room look vague. However, he still didn't look at Angelina. "I just tried to feel OK, to feel whole again. And sometimes, just for a second, I managed… But then something – anything – reminds me of him again and…" He sighed, throwing his hands up in dismay.

A painful silence filled the room for a moment.

"It's just – " George continued, "I tell everyone I'm fine. I tell myself I'm fine. I've told that lie so many times already that even I believed it myself. But the truth is – I'm not fine. I'm not fine at all."

Angelina asked the one question she didn't really want an answer on. "What's going to happen now?"

George knew he couldn't let this rest, he'd never forgive himself if he did.

Of course Angelina recognized the way he looked. "George, please don't do this to yourself…"

But he had already made a decision and pushed Angelina away. "I'm going back to Hogwarts."


	9. Chapter 9

**9. Hogsmeade**

"Please stay, at least think about it!"

George rushed down the stairs with a small backpack, muffling several things inside it along the way. Angelina was right behind him, her footsteps almost silent compared to his. George heard Angelina's words, but didn't comprehend them. His mind was set to a task, and one task only – he just didn't process what his wife was trying to tell him.

Suddenly he stopped walking, causing a confused Angelina to walk into him. He dropped his bag on a little table at the end of the stairs and only took out his wallet. Angelina used this opportunity to take a hold off his wrist and faced him. Her voice was calm and steady when she spoke, but what she felt inside was the exact opposite: bewilderment, chaos, even a bit of desperation. Who knew what her husband was going to bring himself into now?

"If you leave now, I'm not going to come after you."

George broke Angelina's grip on his arm.

"I'll be back soon."

And with those words he disapparated, leaving a lonely Angelina behind.

Both Gavin and Athena jumped when they saw George coming in from the back of the store.

"Mr. Weasley! We didn't expect you to be here today!" They said almost simultaneously.

Gavin and Athena were two siblings George had hired when he had bought the second venue for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Hogsmeade. He barely managed to keep one shop running on his own, two locations would have been absolutely impossible – that's why these two over-enthusiastic and ambitious (which reminded him a bit of a young Percy) 19 year old employees were walking around his store.

"Great job, keep it going." George mumbled as he made his way to the store. Only a few people were inside; a young witch, who was probably in her twenties, stood on George's left side, curiously looking at the little pink 'WonderWitch' bottles filled with love potion. In the right corner, at the front of the store, two old men with tangled grey beards laughed hysterically at the Muggle Magic Tricks – one of them had a black eye and held a plastic telescope with a scarlet boxing glove sticking out of the end in his hands. Some other witches and wizards were walking around the store, greeting George as he walked past them, but he only gave a little nod in return.

Walking through the little streets of Hogsmeade he could only think of one thing; Could it be real? Maybe he'd be able to talk to his brother one more time, one last time. Would he be able to say goodbye forever after that?

The time it took him to get to the great gates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seemed short compared to all those years ago. He could still remember it as if it were yesterday, all the trips they'd made to visit Zonko's, with or without the help of the one eyed crone's hump.

Memories, expectations… George was already more than lost.

"George? Hello! What are you doing here?" George looked up when hearing the familiar voice and saw he had already entered the Hogwarts grounds. A surprised Neville Longbottom waved at him. Only then – by the look of professor Longbottom – did George realize that it was Tuesday, that there were classes all day long. He couldn't just get his son and his nephew out of any class to ask them about the map, not even Binns would approve that.

"Hey, Neville." George began. "I just, I wanted to talk to my son. But I just realized he's probably in class right now."

Neville thought for a moment, questioning the serious look on George's face. "Is it urgent?"

Yes. Yes it's urgent.

"No, not really."

"In that case you can come with me to my office for a while, waiting for classes to be over. I was actually just heading there, I just came from the greenhouses, you see." He hesitated. "I've got tea, if you like?"

George nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, sure. Thank you, Neville."

And together they walked up to the castle.

A long time ago, Neville was either dangling from the ceiling or falling from his broom and George was laughing at him. Both of them had changed a lot. Now George was the one who was a complete mess.


	10. Chapter 10

10. Search

Neville had changed – a lot. He had a lot of stories to tell about nearly everything that had happened at Hogwarts. George didn't notice it, but Neville mainly kept talking because he knew George didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering him. Neville wondered; why had George come to Hogwarts? Why was he so eager on seeing his son? But he didn't dare to ask those questions.

So instead he talked. About Fred and James, mostly, about their Herbology lessons, about how James had one day 'accidentally' dropped a bag of dragon dung compost on the head of a Slytherin boy named 'Luke'.

"I didn't really mind though. That boy reminds me too much of Malfoy." He shrugged. "Blonde hair, arrogant look on his face, getting other people down the entire time… Yeah, he got what he deserved. I was told it took him hours to get the dirt and the smell off of him."

George had just taken a sip of his tea and made a choking sound.

When the school bell rang, Neville stood up and made a gesture to the door. "They finished their classes and it's break now. You better go look for your son."

George took a breath and got out of his chair as well. He opened the door and turned around to see if Neville was following. "Aren't you coming?" he asked.

"Nah," Neville answered while he was rummaging in a large wooden cupboard. "Have to prepare my next lesson. I'm going to start on the Mandrakes with the second-years right now, you know how much trouble those things can cause."

George smiled. "Thanks, Neville."

Neville nodded and George closed the door.

It seemed strange, so out of place, walking through these corridors. Since the classes just ended, there were students walking to and fro everywhere. Had those first years always been that small? George asked himself. Maybe one of their parents had once been their test objects, one of the first people ever to try a Ton-Tongue Toffee – after Harry's lovely cousin, of course.

Most of the students looked at him with rather odd expressions. Yeah, you don't see many parents visiting Hogwarts like this. Maybe some of the younger students even thought he was a new teacher. If only they'd stop staring.

He was glad when he walked down the stairs towards the Great Hall and saw a familiar red head bouncing along a group of pupils. He rushed towards him, trying not to lose him out of sight. James – who was next to Fred, naturally – caught sight of George and didn't let that go unnoticed.

"Uncle George?" he exclaimed over the noise of the people around him. "What are you doing here?"

Fred turned around, clearly confused about James words, and saw his dad.

Laying his hand on his son's shoulder, George said, "Fred, can I talk to you for a moment, please?"

"But… classes…"

"Sweet! Can I come too?" James interrupted. If George had ever imagined a younger version of Sirius Black, it would have been very much like little James.

"Actually, I just wanted to ask you to come." George answered, pushing the two boys through the crowd and steering them towards the viaduct courtyard, where they were all alone. One day, many years ago, the entire school was standing here, watching Fred and George disappear in the distance while fireworks caused chaos and panic among Filch and Umbridge.

"Dad, what is going on? What are you doing here?" Fred asked. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it! I had nothing to do with it!" He pointed towards James. "It was his idea!"

"What?" James said. "No WAY! I-"

"Shhhh!" George interrupted. "I don't care what you did… Or actually I do, good job."

Fred and James looked at one another, stunned.

"Now, James, your dad told me something today. Something about what you saw on the Marauder's Map."

James opened his mouth in understanding, however, Fred didn't seem to understand anything at all.

"What do you mean?" He turned to James and said it again, more urgently. "What does he mean?"

George hadn't expected this. James had never told Fred what he had seen, had he realized the meaning of it?

Quickly, and somewhat awkwardly, James filled Fred in on the story. He began murmuring when Spurcus scuffed over the courtyard, looking over to them suspiciously. George decided to ignore him though, he didn't want any more conversations, surely not with Filch's successor.

"… So I was thinking, maybe the Fred I saw – the second one – wasn't you at all," James concluded, "maybe it was…" He hesitated and looked at his uncle. Never before had he mentioned uncle Fred in front of him and he wasn't eager on changing that any time soon.

George looked James straight in the eye. "Can you show me the place?"

James nodded and immediately made his way to the kitchens.

Fred tickled the pear on the painting and soon they stepped into the great Kitchen of Hogwarts. Hundreds of elves were sitting on chairs, probably waiting for the humans one floor up to finish their lunch. All of their little heads turned towards the doors as the trio entered. For a moment the Hall was filled with noise; "Mister Potter! Mister Weasley! What a pleasure!" But soon the noise died away, as if all the house elves were waiting for them to say something.

"Err… Well, it's nice to be back!" George began. "But we just want to check something, so if you don't mind?" He turned to James, who had already taking the Marauder's Map out of his pocket.

They looked eagerly at the map as James folded it back to the basement, where the Kitchens were.

"Where did you see him, James, where?"

James pointed at a certain point of the map. "About here."

"But there's nothing." Fred said.

George looked up frowning. "Fred, could you please go to the exact place you were standing last time?"

Fred nodded and James gave him directions. When Fred stood near the Slytherin table, George and James looked at the map again.

And again, nothing.


	11. Chapter 11

11. The Golden Trio

Angelina was making – well, more like trying to make – a shopping list while sitting at her husband's desk when the funny light appeared. The blue apparition slowly took on the recognizable shape of a badger. Angelina didn't jump, she was used to this way of communicating by now, though they didn't use it very often. She was told that Dumbledore had found out that a Patronus could also be used for this purpose, that he had taught the Order of the Phoenix how to do this and that the Order had shared this knowledge with its successor (which was the DA, of course).

The badger opened its mouth and Neville Longbottom's voice filled the room: "Little Fred is worried, keeps saying 'he didn't show'. George is gone, ran away. What should I do?"

An echo sounded for a moment, but then, as slowly and mysteriously as it had appeared, the Patronus vanished again. Angelina let her face rest on her hands and sighed. She'd seen this coming. Trouble. She even felt like saying 'Told you so!' to George – if only she knew where he went.

_George is gone, ran away_. To where? He couldn't have gone far, could he? _What should I do? _Well, run after him, you smartass. What else?

Angelina was too tired to panic. Of course she was scared. George left her, even when she told him not to. Her son was worried because of his dad. And dad himself was nowhere to be found, apparently. But she had just had enough of it, it was all too much for her. She needed help. She couldn't do this on her own anymore.

So she stood up and disapparated to the only people that could be of any help right now.

"Angelina? What is going on?" The door opened wider and Ginny's brown eyes looked at her with worry.

Angelina just shook her head and walked into the hallway of the Potter's house. She was slightly surprised when she saw Ron and Hermione sitting in the living room with Harry. All three of them turned around simultaneously, it was almost like nothing had changed since 20 years ago: they still were the golden trio they had always been when they were still at Hogwarts. If only nothing had changed… Then the only thing she would be worrying about right now would be the next Quidditch competition against Slytherin.

She saw Hermione looking at her, putting down the cup of tea that was in her hands.

"Oi, Angelina! What you doing here?" Ron was sitting alone on a large red sofa, he gave her a joyful nod.

"Ronald!" Hermione threw a threatening look his way.

"What?"

"You can't just…" Hermione shot a look at Harry and sighed. "Never mind."

Harry avoided Angelina's look and that was the only confirmation she needed. He had told them everything, that's why Hermione reacted this way.

Footsteps in the hallway announced that Ginny was coming.

"Oh, please, Angelina, take a seat!" She handed Angelina a cup identical to Hermione's and pointed at a dark green couch that stood opposite the couch Ron was sitting on.

"Thank you, Ginny."

For a moment everyone was silently sipping his or her tea. Angelina soon got annoyed by the silence and spoke up.

"Harry, shouldn't you be at the ministry right now?"

"Well, uhm…" Harry said.

"He should." Hermione replied quickly.

"We all should. And we are working – sort of." Ron pointed at a little side table behind him, which was covered with a forgotten pile of papers with the Ministry of Magic crest.

Harry saw Angelina's confused look and explained the situation. "Clearly, we had worse problems to tackle than House Elfs who refused to wear their new skirts." Hermione threw a look his way. "No offence, Hermione."

"None taken."

"Now Angelina, why are you here?" Ginny asked.

Finally, someone who reached out a hand, ready to help her, carry her burden. Angelina didn't hesitate a moment and told all of them the entire story, from beginning to end. They already knew more than half of it, but she didn't care. She just wanted to let it out, to be able to talk about it, and she knew they understood her. Even Ron listened carefully to everything she had to say.

"And then, just now, Neville's Patronus told me George had been at Hogwarts. Apparently he tried out the Map with little Fred, because now Fred is panicking and George is gone."

"Gone? How can he be gone?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, but the Map didn't show anything, no second Fred. Who knows what he has done by now, where he went. I honestly don't know what he's capable of when he's like this!" Angelina broke down crying. Ginny quickly put an arm around her.

"What do you think, Harry?" Ron wondered. "Why didn't the Map show Fred? Did James lie about it the first time?"

"No, definitely not. He was as serious as can be when he told me."

"Then why didn't it work this time?"

Harry shrugged.

"You _never_ learn it, do you?" Hermione exclaimed suddenly.

"What?" Ron said, somewhat annoyed.

"_Logic_!" She paused a moment, but when no one seemed to understand her, she continued: "There has to be a difference between the situation in which Fred appeared on the Map and when he didn't. Now, I'm pretty sure George was smart enough to set a scene similar to the one that night in the Kitchens, so that can't be a difference. Time doesn't seem like much of a difference either when it comes to ghosts. Then the only two remaining differences are George and the purpose of the visit."

"The purpose of the visit?" Ginny said uncomprehending.

"Yes! Let's just assume this _is_ the real Fred Weasley somehow. In that case George's presence shouldn't be a reason for him not to show himself, right?"

Harry nodded.

"So," She continued, "the first visit to the Kitchen was to prank. The second visit was to simply check something, to search for information. Now, if you were Fred, when would you rather show yourself?"

Angelina covered her mouth with her hands when she began to understand.

"Are you telling me Fred is only showing himself on the map when someone's causing mischief?" Harry suggested.

"_Exactly_!"


	12. Chapter 12

12. Sticks and Stones

George slowed his pace as he reached the edge of the forest. Weak, he kept telling himself, you're weak. The moment he'd seen there was nothing on the Map – no sign of his brother – he'd made a run for it. He didn't know where he was heading, he didn't really care either, he just had to get away.

Exhausted, he let himself rest against the nearest tree for a moment.

Why? Why did this happen to him? Why couldn't he just stay with his son, who was probably freaking out right now? Weak.

He was so frustrated, angry with himself, sad because he _had_ hoped to see his brother again. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He smashed his hand against the tree. Unfortunately the tree didn't give way and he hurt his fingers badly.

George didn't know what to do – so he walked. Again. Away from everything, so nothing could hurt him anymore.

He found himself wandering through the Forbidden Forest, he had no clue where he was, how long he had been walking. It was dark everywhere he looked, not that that told him anything about what part of the day it was – this forest made even the brightest day look like a dark mysterious night.

Suddenly he remembered all the stories Ron had told him about the Forest; the nest of spiders, descendents of the infamous Aragog, the centaurs. He had seen a thestral once already, after the Battle of Hogwarts, and he hadn't really enjoyed the sight of the thing.

Of course Fred and he had been in the Forest multiple times, but they had always stayed close to the edge, able to get away from any danger if they had to. Right now George didn't care about any of those 'dangers' at all. He'd be glad if a centaur or a huge spider showed up and ripped him to pieces. Then he could _really_ get away from this place.

He kicked at some loose twigs that lay on the ground. He screwed up today, and he screwed up big time. He had left Angelina, the person that understood him the most. He had probably scared his own son, and what for? A fake hope that he should have never let in. He should've known this didn't change anything. It wasn't like Fred – real Fred, Fred the first – was just going to pop up again, alive and well.

What is dead, should stay dead, his mom had once told him.

That was before the Second War though.

Dammit, Fred! George thought frustrated. Why did you have to go? Why you? Why couldn't they just at least take both of us? It would have been so much easier. Living without his brother wasn't really life. It was like George was half the person he used to be.

Suddenly something on the ground caught his attention. He had been kicking twigs on the ground the entire time, but now he'd accidentally shoved some sand aside and something shiny showed itself. The tiny bit of curiosity left in George made him kneel down, trying to find out what a tiny shiny and pretty object would do in a big dark forest like this.

After rubbing a bit of sand out of the way (it looked as if some kind of animal had walked here, pushing the object deeper into the ground), he picked up a polished black stone and examined it. It had an octagonal shape and a weird symbol was engraved in it: a triangle with a vertical line and a circle inside of it. The symbol looked vaguely familiar to him – where had he seen it before?

The ground was covered in leaves and twigs and very uncomfortable to sit on, but George sat down anyway. For about 15 minutes he looked at the mysterious stone, holding it still in his hand, wondering what it remembered him of – trying hard to keep all the other thoughts out.

Soon he realized he couldn't stay in this forest forever, he had to go back to his life, his kids and his wife. Staying beneath these dark trees till he died wouldn't help anybody except himself.

It took him some time and a great deal of determination, but finally he stood up.

He held the tiny stone as he walked on. Soon his thoughts wandered off again, and – as always – he thought of Fred. He just thought of the happy memories though, he tried to hold on to those as he came nearer to the castle. He didn't want to be seen crying.

"Oi bro, why the sad face?"

George jumped and accidentally dropped the stone. He looked around anxiously. Did he just _really_ hear that? He carefully scanned every tree around him, but he saw nothing.

"Great," he said to himself. "It took me a long time, but now finally I'm really going nuts." He leaned down and picked up the little stone again, not really knowing why he wanted to take it with him.

"Yup, you definitely became a lunatic."

George nearly fainted when he saw him. Fred stood only a few foot next to him, his hands on his side as if he was proud of himself, exactly the same as he had done twenty years ago.

"Wh-what? How…" George was unable to speak. Words seemed to fail him when he looked at his brother. He hadn't changed a thing, except for the fact that he didn't look exactly… solid. As if he was something between a living being and a ghost.

"You tell me, you're the one holding the funny stone." Fred pointed at the little thing in George's hands. George looked at it with wonder. "Exactly, that's the reason I'm here."

George clenched the stone in his fist, promising himself to never let go of it again. The stone looked like a tiny ball of light to him now, a bit of happiness, the solution to his problems. George walked towards Fred.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I don't think you'll be able to actually touch me."

"But, how is this possible, where have you been?" He had to be dreaming, he thought. This couldn't be true.

"Who cares?" Fred shrugged. "I'm here! Now let's get back to your wife. I still have to pick a bone with you on that one though, stealing my ex-girlfriend." He smiled one of his crooked smiles.

George laughed. "That's what you get for leaving us!"

For one brief moment, George felt young and happy again.

Together the twins walked (or floated, in Fred's case) through the forest, back to civilization.


	13. Chapter 13

13. Apologizing

You should've seen their faces. You really should have seen their faces when they saw George walking towards them with a perfect smile on his face. They were standing in the courtyard, all 5 of them; 'Professor Longbottom', aka Neville, little Fred, James, Ginny and Ron. Their extremely worried looks slowly changed to relief when they saw him, to confusion when they saw his smile and – in Ginny's case – to a mixture between incredible anger and more relief.

"GEORGE WEASLEY!" Ginny ran towards him and hugged him tightly. "Where HAVE you BEEN?"

He heard a chuckle coming from his right.

"Wow, so far for me thinking mum was one of a kind." Fred said.

George hugged his sister back, desperately trying to hold his laughter – Fred was right, she did look a lot like mum in some ways. The tiny stone was, of course, still clenched in his fist.

"I'm sorry, Gin, I just... I needed some time alone." George said.

Ginny stepped back and looked up at him, unimpressed. "You _needed some time alone_? And you thought is was necessary to leave your confused son and nephew behind? And your crying wife? And what about the rest of the family who had no idea where you were or what you were doing?"

Angelina? Crying? Oh right, he nearly forgot he had screwed up big time.

"Woooh, red head, calm down!" Fred said.

"Calm down, red head!" George said. "I'm really sorry. I _really _am. I'll talk to Angelina as soon as I'm back home." He looked around. "Why isn't she here anyway?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "She told you she wouldn't follow you if you left, you know she's too proud to try and hunt you down."

George looked at the ground guiltily.

Fred shrugged. "Yup, that's Angelina."

"Dad?" Little Fred slowly walked towards George. "Are you mad at me? I'm really sorry, I did my best, but I couldn't make uncle Fred reappear on the map! I'm so sorry!"

George padded his son's head as if Fred was still 8 years old and smiled at him reassuringly. "Don't worry, Freddy, it's OK. It's alright! I'm not mad at you at all, I'm mostly mad at myself. I never should've brought you into this. Let's just decide to never bring it up again, it didn't do any good to any of us."

His son looked up at him and returned the smile, nodding.

"Aww, aren't you the sweetest daddy in the world!" Fred teased him.

George threw him a semi-annoyed look, he was glad non of the others seemed to be able to see his brother. Probably because he was the only one holding the stone, he thought. Maybe it was better this way, he wanted to be alone with his brother, he didn't want to share him – not yet.

"You seem... unusually happy." Ginny stated.

Another crooked smile crossed George's face and he looked at the five (still) confused people in front of him.

"I am. It's weird to say this, but I actually feel really good right now!" He thanked Neville for helping him out that afternoon, winked at James, and gave Ron a short hug.

"Glad to have you back." was the only thing Ron said.

"I'm glad to be back too, the Dark Forest really is a bit too dark for me."

"You've been in the Forbidden Forest?" James and Fred asked simultaneously, their eyes wide.

George leaned in on them, whispering slightly. "You think this is the first time I did that?"

The looks the two boys exchanged were so recognizable; they were considering the possibilities, what pranks could they think of that had something to do with the Forbidden Forest?

Ginny soon told them it was time to go home, so they all said goodbye to one another.

Walking back to Hogsmeade, where they would be able to disapparate again, Fred looked at George with an astonished expression.

"What?" George murmured under his breath.

"They have _never_ been in the Forbidden Forest?" Fred shook his head. "I take back what I said before. You are a terrible dad for not giving them the idea the moment they got on the train for their first year!"

George had thought of a five minute apology by the time he came home – however, he didn't get the chance to tell Angelina how sorry he was, or to tell her anything, for that matter. From the minute he entered the house, Angelina had hugged him and refused to let go. She told him how scared she had been, how she didn't know where he had been. She told him everything that happened the previous few hours, but carefully evaded naming 'Fred' in any way.

At first George wanted to cut off the conversation as soon as possible, to be able to talk to Fred alone. But when he looked at his brother and saw the smile on his face – a smile of happiness, not because of a prank or a joke – he decided Angelina deserved some real attention after everything that had happened.

They ended up sitting on the couch together, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder, like they were teenagers in love, talking about everything that had been going on in their lives – well, almost everything.

George never let go of the stone, but he was happy Fred didn't talk much. Fred stayed out of sight and just watched the two sit, listening to their stories. He was happy for George and Angelina, he honestly was. But seeing them together, talking about a past he never had, made him feel empty inside. All those years had gone by, and he hadn't even noticed! Everyone had moved on and here he was, stuck in wherever he was, whatever he was. Where had the time gone? That was a very good question, Fred thought. Where _had_ the time gone? Where had he been all this time?

He didn't have a clue, he did have vague memories though, things he couldn't remember having experienced while he was alive.

_While he was alive_. It still sounded so odd to him. He didn't feel dead, he felt very much alive. That is, if you don't count the fact that nobody could see him, touch him or hear him. And the fact that he felt so incredibly empty inside. Inhumanly empty. He didn't know how to describe it, but it surely didn't feel good.

George, on the other hand, hadn't be this happy in years. He didn't have to see Fred, he knew he would stay with him. Fred wouldn't leave him, not again.

It wasn't until the next day that George found the opportunity to lock himself in his office once again, to 'work'. The moment he sat down, he looked at Fred expectantly.

"Now, I think we have a _lot_ to talk about!"

Fred floated towards a little pouffe and sat down on it – God knows how he managed to do that. "Definitely! Little Fred – gorgeous name by the way – seems like the next generation pranker, doesn't he? Great he and James are so close. They still need to learn loads, but with teachers like us nothing can go wrong, right?"

"Teachers like _us_, it sounds good to be able to say that again." George said, and his eyes went sad for a moment, thinking of the lonely years he'd been through. "But you know enough about me by now, tell me about you! What happened?"

Fred changed his position, letting his chin rest on his hand and his elbow on his knee, as if he were in deep thought. "Where do I start?"


	14. Chapter 14

14. The Inbetween

Where do I start? Good question. Fred looked at George's expecting expression and decided to start with the last thing he could clearly remember – and the thing he was sure was real.

"I remember fighting at Hogwarts. Kingsley Shacklebolt told us to defend the secret passages. There was screaming everywhere, curses flying back and forth. Total chaos... You weren't with me, were you?"

George looked troubled, he didn't want to relive these painful moments, not even with Fred more or less sitting besides him. Fred saw this as a sign that George had indeed not been with him at that time.

"I remember something else..." He began, not knowing for sure if the thing he remembered was real or not. "It was something with Percy. I think he made a joke... But that can't have been... Can it?"

George smothered a laugh, only Fred could break the tension like that. "I don't know, seems next to impossible to me! Percy still doesn't joke around. He still bores everyone to death with his lectures all about the ministry."

"He bores them to death? Maybe that's what he did to me!" Fred giggled.

George, however, didn't laugh. "He's been feeling guilty for a long time, you know." His voice had a sharp edge. "He still blames himself for what happened to you."

Both of the twins fell silent for some time.

"Oh..." Fred said, shocked. "But it wasn't his fault, was it? He had nothing to do with it. He was just... Joking around." The scene came back at him; they'd been standing there together, defending the school, Fred and his lost brother, Percy. They'd been fighting the Minister of Magic, Pius Thicknesse, Percy's boss. '_Hello, Minister! Did I mention I'm resigning?_' 'Y_ou're joking, Perce! You actually _are _joking... I don't think I've heard you joke since you were –_' Boom. Lots of smoke. Lots of screams. More chaos. And then... Nothing. Nothing but darkness.

"It wasn't Percy." George answered his question. "It was Rookwood. He blew up half the corridor. But I wasn't there. I didn't see you until everyone assembled in the Great Hall - "

Wow. That must have been horrible for him, Fred thought. He remembered that one moment right after the flight from Little Whinging, when George had been badly injured by a curse from one of the Death Eaters. Fred had felt terrible at that time, seeing his brother in pain. But seeing your brother dead... That must be unbearable. Fred shuddered.

"What was it like after that?" George wondered, changing the topic a bit.

Fred tried to remember, but he only came up with vague images of people he didn't know – or did he?

"I don't remember much to be honest. I honestly have no idea where I've been all this time." He laughed. "Dead as a doornail, I guess."

George didn't even smile.

"Oi, I'm dead already, we might as well joke about it!"

It didn't work. George ignored his comment completely.

"Did you really appear on the Marauder's Map?" He asked.

"What?"

"Fred – Little Fred, I mean – and James saw your name on the Map when they were in the Kitchens some time ago... Was that really you?"

Kitchens. Little Fred and James. That did ring a bell.

Come to think about it... How did he even know about little Fred and James in the first place? He'd been dead by the time they were born, and still he knew who they were.

"I remember them – I think." A memory that shouldn't have been his started to come to him. "They were in the Kitchens with some other boy. They..." He laughed as he realized what his nephews had done. "Maybe they aren't that bad at pranking after all!"

Now he saw everything as if he had been there – who knows, maybe he had. He saw the little Gryffindors exchanging the food with sweets. He saw the chaos in the Great Hall the next day – the canaries, the bleeding noses, the puke, the teachers running to and fro trying to help the confused students. Man, this new caretaker must be some nephew of Filch, he thought.

"So you really were there?" George asked.

"I guess so, I don't clearly remember being there though. I remember what happened, but I can't remember actually witnessing it. Is that weird? Probably."

"Only a bit."

"It's crazy."

"Basically, yes. It's plain weird." Laughing, George added. "I knew it had to be you, it just had to be... So do you remember any other things?"

"I only see this vague pictures in my mind. All of Hogwarts, of students who flout the rules, mostly. There's a lot of little Fred and James in there, to be honest." Fred said, determined to make sense of whatever came to his mind.

"Yeah, that isn't much of a surprise, I've known those two for quite some time now – I raised one of them, for Merlin's sake. It would have been a shame if they hadn't been causing mischief!"

"So I guess the only things I remember have something to do with Hogwarts and people causing mischief. Seems legit. Then the only remaining question is..."

"Where were you in the meantime?" George finished his brother's sentence.

Fred didn't remember anything apart from those moments he had apparently been at Hogwarts looking at students – woah, that just sounds wrong – without really knowing it.

"I wasn't really dead, was I?" Fred started off. "But I wasn't really alive either. It's almost as if I was somewhere in between."

"So you were in the Inbetween?" George joked.

"Yeah, pretty much." He answered. "I'm glad to be back on the living side though, as far as you can call this living." He pointed at the little stone that George was holding.

George smiled. "I'm glad you're back too. It sounds really stupid, but I missed you, Fred. I really did."

"Don't you dare making me blush, Georgie!" Fred laughed.

"Now there's just one problem." George said, his arms crossed over his chest, face serious again.

Fred was confused. "Problem? What problem?"

"Well, you're in the Inbetween, whatever that may be... But I'm supposed to be the holey one here!"


	15. Chapter 15

15. Omniscience

"Check out our new Caps of Omniscience! After the success of the Headless Hats and our famous Anti Gravity Hats, here's your chance to experience something completely new! Are you sick of that little know-it-all outsmarting you all the time? Do you want to be able to finally answer a question correct in Potions class? C'mon! Don't wait any longer and find out what will happen to YOU when you put on this cap!"

George stood on a little ladder attached to one of the shelves inside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, shouting his sales chat over and over again. He looked overly happy, unusually happy – careless, even.

What on earth had happened to him? Angelina thought, watching him from a corner of the store. She stood near the section of Muggle Magic Tricks, which was – as usual – deserted. Why she had decided to visit her husbands' work, she had no clue. Still, she was here, watching George closely, lost in her own thoughts.

"Excuse me, miss!" An old odd-looking man with a long yellow robe and blue ribbons in his beard drew her attention. He pointed at the Magic Tricks behind her and gave her a nod.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Angelina stepped aside as the man observed some kind of flower badge. He squeezed one of its leaves and a small trickle of water came out of it, which caused the man to giggle.

Even in the wizarding world some people look – and act – like complete idiots, Angelina thought, watching the man walking towards the counter with a content look on his face and the badge in his hand.

Ah well, there were always the Lovegoods, compared to them this guy was extraordinary ordinary. Dear Luna was currently hunting Crumple-Horned Snorkack with Rolf Scamander in Romania, after all those years she still hadn't managed to catch one. But of course she wouldn't give up on it, and neither would Rolf.

"Take a look at our Caps of Omniscience!"

Angelina threw another look at George. Still confident, he yelled happily at his customers, wearing an oddly shaped cap, which obviously had to be one of those omniscience hats.

"Did you know that you can lead a cow upstairs, but not downstairs?" He said.

A little boy with spiked dark hair – he couldn't be much older than 10, because otherwise he would have been at Hogwarts right now – walked up to him. "I can push it downstairs, if you want to." he said.

"Now don't be a smart-ass, little one!"

The boy looked up at him provocative. "I thought that was the whole point of wearing a hat like that."

"Oh is it? So tell me, when you shower, do you use a sponge?"

"Uhm... Yes, of course I do."

"Your sponge contains more bacteria than your toilet." George said promptly.

The boys' face twisted with disgust. "Ieehhhll!"

"That's what I thought! Now, do you want to try this hat on too?" George took the cap off his head as the boy nodded eagerly. He handed it over to him, a mischievous smile on his face.

At that moment he caught Angelina's gaze and smiled at her. Angelina saw something that wasn't quite right, something with his smile. It seemed as if his smile were too happy, too real, too convincing to actually be George's smile. The way the corners of his mouth twitched, the way his eyes seemed to lighten up... She recognized this smile, but she hadn't seen it in twenty years.

What happened in the Forbidden Forest? What had changed him so much? It had to be something in there, since Neville had told her George had run into the Forest while he was in complete distress. Still, he had come out of it as a happy human being.

What had happened in there?

She didn't dare to ask him, though. She was afraid George would break down again, go back to that depressed version of himself. Of course, she didn't want that. Because no matter how odd the entire situation seemed, no matter how badly she wanted to know what had happened, what he was hiding from her, she'd never give up his happiness for those things. So she decided to just let it be.

"Hey Angie!" George called her, as he made his way to her, his smile slowly changing into a wide grin.

"Hi!" She answered.

He gave her a quick kiss – dammit George, she thought, we're in our thirties, we're not teens anymore – and pointed at the little kid, who was now eagerly showing the cap to his mum. "Quite an invention, right?"

Angelina giggled. "Yeah, very good for the kid's education."

George shrugged. "We thought it was a good idea!"

"We?" Angelina asked uncomprehending, staring at George with huge eyes. Maybe this was part of his secret?

However, on that moment the door of number 93, Diagon Alley, opened and a tired-looking Hermione stepped in, her hands buried deep in her pockets. She hesitated for a moment, looking around the shop, searching for a familiar face. Soon she noticed George and Angelina and walked towards them.

"Hello! Angelina! I hadn't expected to see you here! How are you doing?"

"Great! How are you? And how's Ron?" Angelina answered happily, she was glad everyone seemed to avoid talking about what happened only a few days ago: the problems with George and the rumours about Fred.

"Good, as usual." Hermione rolled her eyes. "He told me to get some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Don't ask me why. Some 'case' at the ministry he had to solve."

"And you are actually going to let him do that?" George asked unbelieving.

Hermione laughed. "Well, I think we're all in need of a little fun lately, aren't we?"

Angelina threw a look in George's direction. That 'little fun' had obviously already come to him.

George ignored her look, though, and he pointed at the shop, beginning his speech again. "Are you looking for a little fun? Make sure to try on one of our Caps of Omniscience! Then no one can blame you for being a know-it-all!"

Hermione gave him a little push. "Shut up, you!"

The little boy returned and pulled on George's sleeve. "Sir? Can I have this one please?" He pointed at the cap on his head.

"The Cap of Omniscience? Well, of course! Is there anything else you would like to say?" George smiled, oddly enough not looking at the boy, but to a place somewhere on his right.

"Yes! Yes there is!" The boy answered, a few sickles and one golden galleon rattling in his tiny hands. "In a group of 23 people, the chances are 50% that at least two have the same birthday!"

"Oh, is it?" George laughed loudly and winked at Hermione and Angelina as he lead the boy to the counter.

Angelina saw that Hermione shook her head.

"How does he do it?" She said, running a hand through her hair. "I honestly don't know how he gets everyone to buy these things."

It's a Weasley-thing, obviously. All of the Weasleys had the ability to convince other people quite easily, some sort of determination they all owned. But no Weasley had the same never-failing way of convincing people as George. Well, no Weasley, except for Fred, of course. But Fred was gone now. Stop thinking about it, Angelina, she told herself. Thinking of Fred would only cause more problems.

"Angelina?" Hermione asked, waving her hand in front of Angelina's face. "Angelina? What's wrong?"

Angelina was pulled out of her thoughts and looked confused at Hermione. "Oh, it's... It's nothing."

Hermione raised a brow. "Come on, Angelina. I know I'm not that good at reading people, but it's obvious there's something wrong. What is bugging you?"

Hermione had never been Angelina's best friend. They'd always been nice to each other, especially after Hermione started dating Ron and Angelina became closer to George, but they'd never really gotten the chance to build up a strong friendship. And to be honest, Angelina didn't want to change that. No matter how much she liked Hermione and her honest, straight-forward way of saying things, she needed to keep this to herself.

"I'm OK, Hermione, really." She forced a smile.

Hermione still looked unconvinced, of course, but didn't get the chance to ask any more questions, since George turned up again. The boy with the spiked hair just hopped out of the store, overly happy with his new catch. His mother, on the other hand, didn't look as pleased.

"And that's another content customer!" George said, rubbing his hands.

Hermione looked at the boy curiously. "George?" She asked.

"Hmmm?"

"Those Caps of Omniscience, do they actually work?"

George hesitated. "Yeah... they do."

"But?" Hermione's voice sounded expectant.

"But... It's filled with loads of random facts and the ability to solve difficult calculations quickly." He said. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"I knew it. Omniscience, that's just impossible!" Hermione said.

"Well, of course it is." George said. He went silent for a moment and then suddenly bursted out laughing and added. "Yeah, that's right. We never lied, and it _does_ sell quite well!"


	16. Chapter 16

16. Forever Young

Everybody always says that life is hard, that it's a constant struggle with choices between what is good and what is easy. Everybody always says that death is peaceful, that it's easy – but it's not. In fact, it's just the other way around. Life had just always seemed to come to Fred naturally; he smiled when something went wrong, people smiled along with him and everything turned out just fine. Of course there were times when it hadn't been that easy, when even he and George had trouble finding a way out, but they'd always manage.

For example during the Second War, everyone was down and the twins saw the last bits of hope ooze away. The Boy Who Lived was nowhere to be seen and nobody knew what to do, except for waiting and watching as Voldemort turned their world into a terrible place. People disappeared, some died without a proper explanation, though of course everyone knew what had happened to them. Both Fred and George realised they had to do something, they were the jokers, they had to keep the hope alive. So they had started Potterwatch.

It had been a really good idea, Fred realised. They had fun while broadcasting and they made other people laugh again, real honest laughs, not the forced ones they had seen the weeks before. The feeling he got when he saw that people dared to hope again... That had been wonderful.

And now he missed that feeling.

He had felt happy and delighted when he was with George again, of course, but he didn't feel that everlasting carelessness he used to feel when he was still alive.

Still alive. Gosh, that sounded weird.

He knew he wasn't alive anymore, and not just because everyone had changed, had grown older, except for him. George had told him he still looked like his 20-year-old self, unchanged. He himself couldn't see how he looked, because when he looked into a mirror, he saw everything except for his own reflection. Yeah, crazy right? He joked about it, saying he must be some kind of vampire. Forever young, how great was that?

But deep inside, he was slightly scared. What was happening to him? Was he supposed to stay like this for the rest of his … Well, for the rest of forever?

To be honest, he wouldn't mind staying with George, if only that nasty scary feeling would go away. It was like a black hole was forming in him, like some big depressive cloud was slowly trying to destroy him from the inside out. And it scared him. It scared him to bits.

He wanted to feel normal again, to be happy and alive. Even though he knew that wasn't possible, even magic couldn't bring back the dead – If dead is what he was.

This was so annoying – more and more questions kept popping into Fred's head, but he couldn't find the answer to any of them. He was frustrated, which only made that black hole inside of him grow even bigger.

But he wouldn't show George how he felt. He wanted George to be happy, when he still could. And if that meant he had to hide part of his dead self, who cares? This was the only thing he could do for his brother, so he'd give it his everything.

"Don't you think this is kind of... childish?" George whispered.

"What? Hell no. Just open that door already, will ya?" Fred pointed at the closed blue-painted front door in front of them. A little door plate with 'Weasley family' hung next to it and the walls were covered in ivy, giving the place a homy look.

George searched his pocket for a moment and got out a tiny key. Looking around carefully, he opened the door. It made a ominous creaking sound as it swung open, which made Fred giggle.

"Shh!" George said. "Give me a moment."

"They can't hear me, remember? I can yell whenever I feel like it, you're the one who needs to stay quiet." Fred shrugged. He saw a bunch of flowers in a pot next to the door and admired them for a moment, they were bright red and yellow in the middle. Gryffindor, he thought, yet another thing he missed about being alive. He didn't think he'd ever say this, but he missed school. He missed the opportunity to learn new things, to actually achieve something. He missed the socializing with random students, the talks he and his friends used to have. Come to think about that, he wondered how Lee was doing. He hadn't seen him around. Note to self, Fred thought, ask George about Lee some time later. He stretched out his hand towards the flowers, trying to touch them. He couldn't, of course. A light breeze moved them slightly, but none of the flowers took any notice of his attempt to touch them. Instead his hand reached right through them. Maybe he was a ghost after all.

Stupid flowers, he thought.

"Ah, that's right. I knew that." George said, chuckling. "But still, shut your cakehole. I can't concentrate if you're talking the entire time." He stepped inside the house and pulled out his wand. "Homenum revelio." He whispered. When nothing happened, he took another step inside and turned around, grinning.

"Well, good job, brother, you opened the front door. Proud now?" Fred teased him.

"Very proud, thank you very much." George answered. "But still, I don't feel too good about this."

"Technically, we're not even breaking in." Fred comforted him. "I mean, they are the ones that gave you their house key, right?"

George nodded, a crooked smile appearing on his face.

"And apart from that, it's about time to annoy our little brother again, don't you think?"

"Little Won-won definitely deserves a little prank..." George agreed, nodding his head. "But then again, this is pretty childish, don't you think?"

"Childish?" Fred said, faking a shocked expression. "It's childlike, which is a good thing. And I don't know about you, but I'm still a teenager. I am allowed to do things like this." He had to keep himself from pushing George playfully. He wouldn't feel it anyway.

George laughed, not even trying to keep quiet anymore. "If we look at it that way, I'm twice your age, I should be the adult here and stop you from doing stupid things, shouldn't I?"

"Probably." Fred looked at him, his arms crossed. "Now, what are you gonna do?"

George raised his eyebrows and began walking down the hall. "D'you have any idea where dear Won-won keeps his buckets?"

Fred grinned. "You haven't changed a thing in all those years, you know that?"

A sad look overtook George's face for a moment. Stupid, Fred, stupid. Of course he had changed. Nineteen years without your twin and best friend (Fred definitely considered George his best friend, without a doubt) doesn't leave one unchanged. But he didn't want George to remember those lonely times, not now. He had to be happy, to feel young again. Forever young, that's what was the whole point of Fred's 'mission'.

"Well, walk on then, those buckets aren't going to find themselves!" he said.

George's mischievous smile returned. "I can't believe we're actually going to pull a muggle joke. Dad could learn a lot from us!"

A few hours later the twins were back in George's office, where they often sat lately, just to talk to each other.

"I still think we should've stayed at their house though, to see what happens." Fred said.

"No way, if Hermione had seen us - " George hesitated. " I mean – if she had seen me, she would have chased me all the way to our parents house so mum could give me a Howler in personal."

Fred nearly chocked laughing. "Unbelievable, you have kids and are in your thirties, and still you're afraid of mum."

"Well, you'd be, too. She hasn't changed that much either, for that matter." George shrugged.

"Now why doesn't that surprise me? I bet she still makes your sandwiches, am I right?"

"You are such an idiot!" George laughed, pretending to hit his brother.

Suddenly, Fred felt a childish sort of homesickness. He wanted to see his mum again. No, even worse, he wanted his mum to be able to see him, even if it was just to give him a Howler.

Fred suddenly remembered his earlier 'note to self'. "How's Lee doing, actually?" he asked.

George's face became serious again. "Oh... Lee..."

That surely isn't a good sign, Fred thought. He saw George was thinking hard. He always bit his lower lip when he was in deep thoughts, and that was exactly what he was doing right now.

"Georgie?"

"Yeah -" George looked up. "I – I haven't spoken to Lee in a long time."

"How come?"

George turned a tad red. "Well, I might have kinda turned my back on a few people after the War. It was a very tough time for me, you see."

Fred nodded. Of course he understood.

"Well, for weeks I didn't talk to anyone. And a year later, the only one that really got to me and was able to have a proper conversation with me, was..."

"Angelina." Fred completed the sentence for him.

"Yes..." George said. "And I feel really bad for doing that. For letting everyone down. But it's not that big a deal, is it? Lee is better off without me anyway. And it isn't as if you'd be able to talk to him or something like that."

"Why not?" Fred asked, surprised.

"Well, that's obvious, right? No one can see you. No one is supposed to see you." George answered, as if it was the clearest thing in the world.

"But you could always try to give the stone to mum, or Ron. Maybe to Angelina –."

"_No._"

Fred was thunderstruck by George's direct answer. "What? George? Are you serious? Why not?"

"Because –." George sighed, burying his face in his hands for a moment. "Because I can't lose you. Not again. I won't let them take you from me."

Fred swallowed, thinking. He wanted people to see him, he wanted to be normal again. He didn't want to be trapped in this little world, no matter how glad he was to be with his brother. But he had to keep thinking of his mission, keep George happy, that was all that mattered right now.

"Please, Fred. Trust me, nobody can know about this, it would ruin everything. No one can know, not even Angelina."

Fred sighed and frowned. A faint sound made him turn around quickly. The door of the office, that had been slightly ajar, opened slowly, revealing a person standing in the hall. A shocked face looked at them.

Angelina.


	17. Chapter 17

17. Losing Grip

_*A few hours earlier*_

"I got a letter from Hugo the other day, by the way." Hermione chatted happily as they walked towards her house. They had just been shopping in the nearby muggle town, they usually got their non-magical supplies there, such as foods and drinks. Apparating wasn't very useful right then, as it was only a fifteen minute walk and the sun was shining bright, leaving the world with a colorful and positive look.

"You did?" Angelina answered. "No problems, I hope?"

"Not at all!" Hermione replied. "But he keeps on talking about a boy named Scorpius Malfoy..."

Angelina raised an eyebrow. "I hope he isn't as nice a lad as his dad?"

"Quite the contrary, if I should believe Hugo." She shrugged. "I think they're like best friends at Hogwarts right now."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Angelina exclaimed. "You don't think Malfoy's playing some kind of trick on Hugo, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, of course not. That's not something Draco would do, is it? He's always been more of the straight-to-the-point kind of guy. And I bet his son is just like that."

Angelina was unconvinced.

"And besides," Hermione added, "It's been ages since I've seen Draco for the last time. We've all grown up, and I think most of Draco's problems were due to his father. He didn't want to be involved in any of..." She hesitated. "Well, anything that happened to him."

"But he has been a complete jerk for as long as I know him." Angelina grinned.

"Yeah, that's true." Hermione laughed. "But people change. I don't know if he changed the right way, but as long as his son's being nice to mine, I'm okay with it." She shrugged again and walked on, swinging her bag to and fro.

"Well, you must be in a great mood." Angelina smirked. "You just gave Draco Malfoy a compliment – sort of."

Hermione looked back at her. "Ah well, you know what they say, right? Time heals all wounds."

Angelina forced a smile, though she knew better than that. Hermione might be smart and sensible and completely logical in her way of thinking, but Angelina knew that she was wrong on that point. Time doesn't heal wounds. Not all of them.

Hermione opened the blue front door of her home with a 'click' and they stepped inside.

"Would you like some tea?" She asked as she pulled out her coat and walked towards the kitchen.

"I'd love to." Angelina answered, mimicking her actions. She wasn't feeling as happy and carefree as ten minutes ago. Something was tugging her mind and she knew exactly what it was. It had been bothering her for some time now and it drove her crazy. Hermione's comment had only made matters worse.

Together they sat at the kitchen table, facing each other. Hermione took out her wand and waved it over the two teacups, cooling the liquid down to a drinkable temperature. They both took a sip and then Hermione looked Angelina in the eye, a serious look on her face.

O-oh.

"Did I say something wrong? You seem down again, would you just please tell me what is going on?" It didn't sound as a plead or an accusation, it was just a statement, a straight-forward question. The typical Hermione-way of putting things.

Angelina remembered when she was at the Wheezes, when Hermione had asked her what was bugging her. She hadn't wanted to let it all out back then, but maybe it was good to talk to Hermione about this. Maybe her plain logic was just what Angelina needed.

She sighed as she was trying to find the words. "It's just that I don't know what to do or think anymore."

Great start, Angelina, she thought. I bet Hermione knows exactly what you're talking about right now.

However, Hermione put one hand on top of hers and smiled encouragingly.

"George is acting so... weird, lately." Angelina went on. "It's like he's being two different people at the same time. One moment he's all normal and he talks to me about random things and he laughs and he smiles and actually looks at me when I'm talking to him, and the other moment... it's just like he is gone. Absent, somehow."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean exactly?"

"I don't know." Angelina's gaze focused on the wall behind Hermione, which was filled with pictures of little Hugo and Rose. She had always had problems with looking people in the eye while talking to them, especially in serious conversations. Like this one. She felt Hermione looking at her though, which even made her more reluctant to look at her. "Sometimes he doesn't even notice me. When I talk to him, he just doesn't answer or respond in any way."

"So do you think he's in a depression or something like that?"

"What? No! He's not sad. On the contrary, he's smiling the entire time. The problem is," Angelina took another breath before finishing her sentence, "he doesn't smile at me. He's happy and cracks jokes, but it seems like I'm missing the point of his words. Like he is in some other world where I can't reach him. And that scares me, I don't want to lose him. It feels like I'm losing my grip on him. I thought I had him figured out, that we'd left the past behind us, that the worst part of this was over, but –"

"But it's like everything changed the minute he got out of that forest." Hermione stated.

Angelina finally returned Hermione's gaze, surprised. "Yes. Yes, exactly."

Hermione took another sip of her tea, seeming quite content with herself. Who would have thought she was the one to understand how Angelina was feeling. It was weird, since Angelina had never been very close to Hermione, yet she felt like they had been capable of understanding each other for years, they just never really realised it. Angelina now knew she had a friend in Hermione, they weren't just both part of the Weasley family. There was some kind of connection between them.

"Ron noticed it too, George's behaviour. But I wouldn't worry about it too much, to be honest." Hermione concluded. "I bet he didn't take in the situation with little Fred and the map lightly, but he'll come around. This is just his way of dealing with it." She smiled another reassuring smile, squeezing Angelina's hand a bit.

Angelina responded with a slight smile. She knew she was probably overreacting, but the feeling she had wouldn't go away. This might be just some kind of 'phase' George had to go through, especially after the incident with the map, as Hermione had said, but Angelina was still afraid of losing him in the process.

Hermione apparently noticed her doubts. "He's happy, and you won't be left alone. You should know that." She laughed. "I mean, let's be honest; George would rather eat a Blast-Ended Skrewt alive than leave you alone. He loves you."

Angelina now focused her gaze on the floor. "Maybe you're right." She agreed.

"Of course I'm right."

Angelina let out a chuckle as they heard the front door open.

"We're home!" Ron's voice filled the house for a minute. Then they heard light footsteps and Rose appeared in the kitchen.

"Mum!" She yelled, running towards Hermione and hugging her tightly.

"Rose! How was school today?" Hermione quickly moved her teacup, preventing the little girl from knocking it over, and hugged her daughter back lovingly.

"It was fun!" Rose shrieked enthusiastically. "We got a map of Scotland and had to learn what all the places were called. But Hogwarts wasn't on the map, mum!"

Hermione laughed. "It wasn't? Now that's a bummer! You didn't tell your muggle teacher about that, did you?"

"No, you said it yourself, the muggle teacher wouldn't understand me anyway."

"That's right!" Hermione padded her daughter's head.

"But I wanna go to Hogwarts, mum! And it's so unfair, Hugo is there already. I wanna go too!" The little girl pulled her mum's sleeve as she pouted.

"I know you want to, honey, but you'll get there soon enough! And the longer you wait, the more excited you'll get, the better it'll be when you finally get there!"

Rose did a little dance of joy and then went straight to the cookie-jar, completely content with her mother's wise words. Hermione just opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a loud noise coming from the second floor, the sound of iron and wood colliding, followed by a scream and the sound of... water?

Angelina and Hermione looked at each other, both confused. Little Rose giggled, a half-eaten cookie in her right hand.

"Ron? What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" Hermione yelled.

They heard a faint thump.

"I SWEAR I'M GOING TO KILL THE BLOODY GUY!"

All three of them jumped up and ran up the stairs, towards the shouting. The situation they walked into as they reached Ron and Hermione's bedroom was ridiculous. Ron stood in the doorway, his hair soaking wet and glued to his face. The rest of his body was drenched too, but that wasn't the only thing. Ron was covered in tiny white feathers from head to toe. It was a hilarious sight. Angelina couldn't help it and nearly choked of laughter. Two empty buckets lay unmoving on the ground. This was without a doubt another prank by George Weasley.

Hermione tried hard not to laugh, but failed miserably as Rose happily said: "Daddy! Daddy! You look like a chicken!"

He threw his daughter a semi-annoyed look. "Wait till I see George again, he's gonna pay for this."

"What happened?" Hermione laughed, her hand covering her mouth.

"I just walked into our bedroom, the door was slightly ajar, so I pushed it open and then... BOOM. Those two bloody buckets fell on top of my head. And now I'm soaked." He pointed at his clothes, stating the obvious.

The three girls were doubled up with laughter right now.

"You actually fell for a muggle prank!" Hermione managed to say.

"That's it, I'm gonna take a bloody shower." He unsuccessfully tried to wipe away some of the feathers. "Let me tell you this, Rose, don't you ever trust uncle George with _anything_! Okay? Because uncle George can sometimes be a real pain in the –"

"DON'T SAY DIRTY WORDS, DADDY!"

Angelina still giggled to herself as she arrived back at her own home. Despite everything that was going on right now, George still managed to make her smile without even being with her. Maybe Hermione was right, maybe it wasn't all as bad as she thought. At least George smiled and pulled pranks again. Now it was her turn to tell him off for what he had done to his brother, though she strongly doubted whether she'd be able to do that without cracking a smile.

She stood in front of his office, just about to knock on the door, as something stopped her. George was talking to someone.

That's odd, he never let people inside his office.

Angelina got curious and wanted to open the door. Suddenly she heard George's voice loud and clear. It sounded sad, almost pleading.

""Please, Fred. Trust me, nobody can know about this, it would ruin everything. No one can know, not even Angelina."

Her mouth fell open in shock, she moved slightly, which caused the door to open slowly. George was alone in his office, looking at her with an expression that probably matched her own.

The room was silent.

All the insecurities Angelina had had the past few weeks, all the questions came back at once, clouding her mind. Fred? Had he really said that? What was it she wasn't supposed to know? Why?

Ron's little chicken-issue was the last thing on her mind right now.

Now she knew she hadn't been overreacting. This was bad.

She was tired of running after George. She was tired of wondering what was going on. She was tired of fighting. She was just generally tired of being tired.

She needed to know what was going on. Now.

"No one can know what?" Her voice sounded hollow.

George opened his mouth and closed it again. He kept intertwining his fingers and didn't sit still for a second. Angelina looked at him firmly.

"It's – it's nothing. Angelina, just let it go."

"I won't let it go! Don't you understand? I want to help you! Why did you say Fred's name? Who were you talking to? Please, George, just tell me." Angelina's voice broke.

"Shut up!" George burst out suddenly.

Angelina was shocked. "What did you just say to me?" She was close to crying now. She felt George slipping away from her, keeping secrets – and there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening.

"No, no! Angelina! I wasn't talking to you!" George buried his face in his hands in frustration.

Angelina felt a tear stream down her cheek. This didn't make any sense at all. "Then who were you talking to?"

George kicked his chair and began pacing to and fro. He murmured to himself. "I told you so, I told you so. Now what?"

Angelina was unable to move, frozen into place she watched as George kept moving, thinking to himself, mumbling things under his breath.

Suddenly he turned around, looking her in the eye.

"If this goes wrong, I blame you." He said. His voice was steady and passionless, though Angelina had that feeling again, that feeling that told her George wasn't talking to her. "Anyway," he continued, "we've got something to admit."


	18. Chapter 18

18. The One That's Worth It All

It's hard to concentrate and focus when two people are talking – no, yelling – to you at the same time, and it gets even more difficult when one of those two people has no idea the other person exists. Ugh, George managed to confuse himself merely by thinking about the absurdness of the situation.

Fred had basically been telling George what to do from the moment Angelina walked in on them. 'Mental support', his brother called it. However, George rather referred to it as 'annoying background noise'. He knew that Fred was just trying to help him, but Fred, too, hadn't made up his mind yet on what to do, so his advise varied from "Maybe telling her you have a fever and therefore suffer from hallucinations will make her leave..." to the more serious "Just tell her about everything already, she's suspecting things anyway.".

In the end Fred kept more to the latter and began a monologue on why it was better for Angelina to know the entire story – and that was when George had screwed up and had practically made his decision without even realizing it.

"Shut up!" George yelled.

Angelina looked at him, shocked. "What did you just say to me?"

Fred threw his hands up in the air and then sat down on the floor, looking slightly amused. "Well, this is not exactly the way I imagined it would happen..."

George firstly tried to talk himself out of it, which was impossible, of course. He knew very well that if Angelina put her mind to something, it was going to happen one way or another anyway. He didn't want to lose Fred, he obviously didn't. But he didn't want to lose Angelina either. Angelina was the one who had stayed with him through everything, the only one who had managed to make him feel alive again after he had lost his brother. He couldn't be dishonest with her, she didn't deserve that. He had known that for a long time already, he just didn't want to realise that that meant sharing his precious secret with her.

He shivered, why did the room seem so cold all of a sudden?

"We've got something to admit." he sighed. He then turned around and pointed his wand at the fireplace. A fire started immediately, giving the room a shallow glow.

He threw a glance at Fred, who was now – finally – quiet. Fred just shrugged as if to say 'it's all up to you now, mate!' and George sighed again before he faced Angelina. She still wore that shocked expression, George hated it. He hated himself for making her go through all of this.

"Just... Don't panic when I tell you the entire story, okay?" he muttered. He had never felt this insecure and _shy_ in his life. Keeping secrets from people was something he had done for years, regularly, even before 1998, but this was different. This wasn't 'just a secret'.

"'Don't panic'?" Fred interrupted almost immediately. "Are you kidding me? Have you seen her face? She looks like she just saw a ghost or something!"

He fell silent for a second and then shook his head a few times quickly.

"And I didn't even mean that ironically."

George looked at him. Even though the situation was everything except for comfortable, he chuckled lightly. "Seriously?"

"I know, not funny. I'm sorry. I'll shut up now." Fred put his arms around his knees as he looked up at his brother. "She'll be OK. She'll understand. Don't worry."

Angelina hadn't said a thing yet, her mind was probably too busy with either trying to figure out what was going on or contemplating whether or not to take George to St. Mungo's because he was talking to someone who she thought wasn't there.

Impulsive as he was, George made his way towards her and hugged her tightly, keeping his right hand clenched into a fist, still holding the tiny black stone as if his life depended on it. "Please, don't panic. Don't worry."

Angelina buried her face in his shoulder. "Just tell me already. Tell me what's going on. Maybe... Maybe I can help you with whatever it is. Maybe we can figure it out together."

"Wait, what?" George said, withdrawing from the hug as he wanted to look Angelina in the eyes. "There's nothing to figure out! It isn't a bad thing I'm about to tell you." He chuckled again. "It's not a bad thing at all!"

Angelina wiped a tear from her cheek as she replied, confused. "You're supposed to clear things up for me, remember?"

He nodded. "I know, I know. Now, let me explain everything. And don't blame me if it doesn't make sense, because it is kind of crazy and I have no idea where to start." That was his problem. He honestly didn't know where to start, what to say to her. Should he make her sit down, calm down, first? Maybe he should offer her a drink. He'd always thought Fred was more of a gentleman than he was when it came to that kind of stuff, he would know what to do to make Angelina feel more comfortable. He made a little 'help me' gesture towards Fred, who was still sitting on the floor and was – for some reason – awkwardly intertwining his fingers.

George raised his brow.

"What?" Fred said. "I just feel like some kind of stalker, watching you guys get all cuddly..."

George smothered a laugh. Never mind, he thought. "Right. Anyway, I'd better get straight to the point." He looked at Angelina, then at Fred, at the ceiling, the floor, the enormous pile of papers for the Wheezes he still had to go through. He took another breath and said the words. "Fred is still here."

Angelina sounded as if she was choking on pumpkin juice and for a moment George was glad he hadn't offered her that drink. If he had, he might just have had to make use of those first aid lessons Hermione had forced Ron and him to take – which had been ridiculous, really.

"What? What do you mean, he's still here?" Angelina shook her head in confusion. "You're crazy, he can't be here. That's impossible."

"Breath, Angelina, easy!" George grabbed her shoulders. "It's true! I mean, I won't say I'm not crazy, but he really is here!"

"Not possible."

"Stubborn as always, I see?" Fred bumped in. "Maybe you should..." He pointed at George's hand.

George nodded and focused on Angelina again, who now had her hands in her hair and her eyes closed. "He says you haven't changed a thing. You're still as stubborn as you were back at school." George said.

"Shut up, this can't be happening. Please, George, get back to your senses again. You know as well as I do that no spell can bring back the–"

"No spell can bring back the dead. I know. Just hear me out!" George interrupted her.

"You're not going to tell me he isn't dead, right? Because I saw him, George. _You_ saw him, that night in the Great Hall! There's no way on earth he'd –"

"Angelina."

"_What_?" Sometimes Angelina's rants reminded George a bit of his mum – in a good way, of course.

"Hear me out? Please?"

Angelina sighed, trying not to lose her mind. "Sure, but if you say anything else that doesn't make sense, I'm taking you to St. Mungo's, I swear."

Laughing, George said, "So you really think I'm crazy?"

"That's my best guess, yes."

"Do me a favour, will you?" George held out his right hand and opened it, showing the black stone. "Think of Fred, of anything that has to do with Fred, and take my hand."

Angelina looked at the stone cautiously. "What is that?"

"Just trust me." George pressed.

Angelina looked restrained, but put her hand on George's in the end. She thought for a moment, then she smiled slightly. "Do you remember that time during Quidditch practise, when you and Fred did one of those crazy experiments on yourselves and had difficulty flying your brooms?"

"Did you really have to pick _that_ memory? Like I could ever forget that. Those boils... That was just horrible." George flinched as he remembered that terrible rainy day.

"I was so angry with you, but I couldn't help but laugh when I saw you two on those brooms. It was hilarious!"

"Well, you try flying properly while you're in that condition, you'd look ridiculous too!" Fred said.

Angelina turned around, her smile turned into a shocked expression as she saw Fred sitting on the floor. She panicked, stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, letting go of George's hand in the process. "What... No way!" She yelled.

"Still think I'm crazy?"

"That is NOT funny George!" Tears began streaming down Angelina's face. "What was that? How is this even possible?"

"Why don't you let him explain it himself?" George said as he held out his hand again.

Angelina got to her feet and hesitated. She had seen Fred, she was absolutely sure about that. She was also absolutely sure that that wasn't possible. Or was it?

Curiosity took the upper hand.

As soon as her fingers touched the stone again, Fred appeared, standing exactly at the place she had just seen him sitting.

"Fred?" She asked, not knowing what to say.

"The one and only." He answered with a grin.

Angelina shook her head once again. "That's it. I'm crazy. Absolutely insane."

"No, you're not." George said, squeezing her hand.

Now the waterworks had really started. Angelina couldn't take her eyes off Fred, who hadn't aged at all since he had died. Though he did have some kind of strange appearance, like he wasn't exactly... solid. He kept grinning at her like an idiot.

"Fred... I... I'm so sorry! I missed you so much! Are you in pain? Are you okay? How is this possible?" All kinds of relevant and irrelevant questions popped up in her head and she was desperate to get an answer to them when she had the chance.

"Wow, take it easy." Fred laughed. "I'm all right! I'm perfectly fine! And to be honest, I don't have a clue what's going on or how this is even possible."

"What is this thing?" she asked suddenly, gesturing towards the little stone, which was now cupped in her and George's hands.

George started to explain where he'd found the stone and how he found out what it could do, Fred corrected him on some points or added bits to the story. Soon Angelina felt like she was sixteen again, talking to the twins in the common room about all kinds of stuff. She tried to wipe her tears away, but they kept coming. Seeing George talking like this, happy and complete, with Fred by his side, it was just too much for her.

However, there was a small thought circling her mind that she couldn't get rid of. What kind of magic is this? Is it dangerous? Playing with the balance of nature couldn't be a good thing, it just couldn't.

"... And that's how we got here." Fred concluded their story.

Angelina smiled. "This is just too weird."

"I know right?" George said.

"Don't you think we should tell the others, though." Angelina said, speaking out the thought that had suddenly popped into her head. "Ron, Ginny, Percy, your mum and dad... Don't you think they should know?"

Fred and George had the exact same expression of bewilderment on their faces.

"I don't think..." George started, but Fred interrupted him quickly.

"George is glad he's got someone to trust for now." He hesitated for a minute and looked at his brother. "I think it's for the best to give it some time. If only a few days."

Angelina looked at them, still not succeeding in keeping the tears from falling. There was something more behind this, she knew just by looking at the twins.

"We cause a lot of problems, don't we?" George joked, breaking the silence that had followed Fred's words.

"Yeah, but that's what we do, right? Causing trouble at all times." Fred replied.

Angelina smiled through her tears. "Fred and George Weasley, causing trouble from beyond the grave… Who would've thought?"

The twins looked at one another and chuckled.

"'Grave' is such a heavy word." George said.

"We prefer the term 'Inbetween'." Fred added.

"And after all this time, you still finish each other's sentences. Does anything _ever_ change?"


	19. Chapter 19

19. Boys just wanna have fun

"Excellent, mr. Weasley, very good!" Professor Pillowsby said as James bellowed with laughter in front of them, holding the desk tightly not to end up on the ground, lost in his endless giggles.

Fred grinned. "Thanks, Professor."

"I always think these lessons are the best of the semester. What could possibly be more fun than practising Cheering Charms?" Professor Pillowsby stood up from his chair – that guy was huge, 7 feet at the least – and looked across the classroom to the other students. Suddenly his eyes opened wide and he hurried towards one of Fred's classmates. "Oh NO! Miss Finnigan! We're practising _Cheering Charms_! Out with that fire!"

Fred shook James shoulder and pointed at the smoke that came up from a desk somewhere on their right. "Look, James, _look_! Briana blew something up!"

"Again?" James managed to say in between chuckles, the charm had definitely not worn off yet. "That's like the third time this week!"

"I don't know how she manages to do it!" Fred laughed.

James had his arms clamped around his stomach, which clearly ached from laughing. "It runs in the family, uncle Ron once told me."

"I bet so. I just know that if I was part of her family, I'd run indeed, before she somehow blew _me_ up."

James laughed loudly, throwing his head back in amusement.

"Is that still the effect of the charm or was my joke actually funny?" Fred joked.

James, still incapable of saying a word, just shook his head.

At that moment, a loud 'BOOM' sounded. A cloud of smoke appeared and darkened the classroom. Several students coughed vehemently, while others were still laughing under the influence of the charm.

Professor Pillowsby stood next to Briana, his silhouette barely visible in the foggy atmosphere. He whooped loudly and waved his arms through the air. Then he grabbed his wand and with one wave the smoke disappeared. He sighed grumpily as he pocketed his wand again, murmuring something about 'kids' education these days'.

Briana, on the contrary, looked quite happy and even intrigued because of the entire situation.

"That... Was... AWESOME!" She exclaimed, but then she saw the look on Pillowsby's face and quickly added: "But completely wrong and unnecessary and I don't even know how it happened! I'm sorry, professor."

Professor Pillowsby raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

Fred couldn't keep from smiling and joined in in James' fit of laughter. The school bell rang and all students – with the exception of Briana Finnigan, who was currently trying to explain what exactly had happened to a very unhappy-looking professor Pillowsby – packed their books, quills and parchment and headed off to their next class.

"What's up next?" Fred asked as he swung his bag over his shoulder.

James pulled his timetable out of his pocket. "History of Magic, classroom 4F, with the Slytherins."

"Ugh," Fred moaned. "I hate having to be in the same room with Slytherins. Especially during History of Magic. I mean, we can't even take a good nap anymore. Before you know it one of those sneaky snakes used the jelly-leg jinx on you."

James chuckled. "Yeah, those Slytherins surely are terrifying!" he said sarcastically. "Now, let's see what interesting things professor Binns is going to tell us today! Goblin rebellions, Emeric What's-his-name, I can't wait!"

Before walking out of the classroom, they threw one last look at Briana and Pillowsby.

"If I were you, I'd write my parents, asking for a new copy of 'The Standard Book of Spells'. I personally don't think you'll be able to use your old one anymore." He pointed at a little pile of black goo left on Briana's desk. "Well," he added. "At least you didn't blow up one of your classmates."

"You gotta admit though," Briana giggled, poking the black mess on her desk with her finger. "Fire is fascinating."

The two of them didn't get anywhere near the History of Magic classroom without delay, for when they walked through the Charms corridor, they came across Peeves.

"What the..." Fred started.

They watched the mischievous ghost carefully, trying to determine what he was up to this time. However, it looked as if Peeves was just... Well, doing nothing, in fact. He wasn't unscrewing chandeliers, stuffing keyholes full of chewing gum or juggling with torches.

"It almost looks as if he's just... sitting there." James said.

"Now that's odd."

At that moment, Peeves saw them looking and swooped down from the window frame he'd been sitting on. "Ooooh, shouldn't the little tiny students be in class right now?" he mocked, floating on his belly in mid-air with his head resting on his hands and his feet up in the air.

"We, proper, _normal-sized_, third years, were just on our way to our next class, actually." Fred replied.

"What's with you, Peeves? Are you bored? Couldn't come up with any new original ideas to cause chaos? AUCH!" Fred had quickly kicked James' foot to make him stop talking. Provoking Peeves on a school day right before a new class was about to start was everything _but _smart.

Peeves laughed and rolled over three times while he half-sung, half-said: "Ickle third years Potty and Weasel think Peeves' bored! Should be worrying 'bout themselves, what above their heads just soared!"

Looking up fearfully, James and Fred both backed away from Peeves a few steps. You could never be too sure with this 'king of mayhem'.

"Times were much better when Otty Potty Voldy-destroyer was still here!" Peeves bellowed suddenly.

"Oh right," James said, "My dad always talks about the horrible but hilarious things you used to do when that terrible woman ruled the school. What was her name again? Umbridge?"

"Peeves had to give Pinky hell, so hell is what he gave her!" He quickly flew across the corridor and back again, snuffing out a few candles in the process. "But now Umbridge is gone, so Peevsie's done!"

"I don't understand," Fred said, eyeing James, who was still checking the ceiling for any hidden traps from Peeves. "Umbridge hasn't been at this school for ages, why are you only bored _now_?"

"Weasley-Weasel should get back here!" Peeves yelled. "Years and years of fun we had! And now he's gone!"

"What the bloody hell is he talking about?" Fred asked.

James shrugged. "I don't have a clue, but we'd better go now. They won't be too happy if we disturb Binns by entering class during his monologue."

"Like he'd even notice."

"He won't, but Isabelle will. And I don't want _another_ preach before going to bed this evening, surely not from a fellow student, thank you very much." James said matter-of-factly.

"Good point." Fred agreed.

SPLASH!

Fred felt his hair and clothes get wet and sticky suddenly, as if someone had dropped an egg on his – Wait a minute...

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Told ya you had to worry 'bout yourselves! JOKE EGG ON THE HEAD!"

Both James and Fred were covered in something disgusting, judging from what Peeves said, a joke egg from Zonko's.

The tried to get the slimy stuff out of their hair and off of their clothes, but they soon realised they weren't making things any better; the substance stuck to their cloaks, bags and hands and was impossible to get rid off without serious measures.

"Gross, Peeves. That is just GROSS!" James yelled.

Peeves now floated in the air, very well out of their reach, not that they could actually do something to get back at him. He looked extremely pleased with himself, juggling with four remaining eggs.

"C'mon," James urged, "before he drops another one of those smudgy things on us."

They hurried through the corridors, leaving behind a laughing Peeves, who had now apparently started a belching-competition with himself.

"He's nuts, completely nuts, I tell you!" James said. His hair was now stuck to his forehead because of the watery goo. This clearly annoyed him terribly, since James kept trying to get his hair back in its usual shape, which was black and messy, just like his dad's.

"Are you done yet or do you need me to go to the girl's loo to get you a mirror?" Fred mocked.

"Shut up." James got his hand through his hair one last time and opened the door to the History of Magic classroom.

About half the students (the other half had either nearly or completely fallen asleep) turned their heads towards the door when they heard them come in. Immediately a huge sigh – obviously from Isabelle, that little annoying know-it-all – was to be heard. The others just looked at James and Fred in confusion. They must look ridiculous, Fred thought, but he didn't really care.

Binns hadn't even noticed them coming in, he just went on with his monologue, as he always did, so they just sat down in the classroom and got their books out of their bags.

No, Fred didn't care about what he looked like right now at all. He didn't care that his parchment was soaked, his quill was sticky and his ink probably one big mess.

He did care about something else, though. What had Peeves meant, 'Weasley-Weasel should get back here!Years and years of fun we had!'? His dad hadn't been at Hogwarts for longer than a day in ages, so who was Peeves talking about?

It couldn't be... No, of course not. There were a _lot_ of Weasleys in this school. Peeves couldn't possibly have meant dead uncle Fred – could he?

Should she do it? She honestly didn't know anymore. It was raining slightly, the kind of rain that you barely see and feel, but that gets you soaked within five minutes. Standing in front of the house of the Potters with one hand ready to knock, Angelina changed her mind for what must have been the millionth time that day.

George had told her not to tell anybody about Fred, she knew that. She didn't want to betray him, neither of them, not ever.

But what if it went wrong? She didn't know what kind of magic this was, what kind of object the tiny mysterious stone was. What if it involved black magic?

But she had promised George not to tell anybody...

It felt like there were two figures sitting on her shoulders, one on either side, a devil and an angel, like in those muggle cartoons. One told her to share her secret with the other Weasleys, the other told her to shut her mouth and listen to George. The only problem was that she couldn't find out which one was supposed to be the angel-figure and which one the devil.

She sighed and dropped her hand to her side again.

Just as she started to walk away, planning on going home again, the door of the house opened.

"Angelina!" Ginny's voice called. "What are you doing out here in the rain? Come inside!"

U-oh.

Now she didn't have much of a choice. Before the voices inside her head started arguing again, she ran towards the door and stepped inside the familiar warmth of the Potter house.


	20. Chapter 20

20. The Tale Of The Three Brothers

Of course she knew she didn't have much of a choice. Now that Ginny had caught her standing in the rain in front of their house – which, she admitted, sounded either really creepy or terribly desperate – she would never let Angelina go without getting a proper explanation. Ginny was a nice person who knew just exactly when someone needed to be left alone with their thoughts, but she was extremely determinate as well, meaning that when she wanted to know or have something, she wouldn't rest – literally – until she knew or had it.

Harry was the living proof of that determination. For years Ginny had loved that boy without getting _anything_ in return, and look where that'd brought her.

Angelina was seated in the kitchen while Ginny prepared her a cup of tea.

"Nuts, I tell you." Ginny said as she put the cup down in front of Angelina. "Must be my brother's influences. Why else would you stand outside in the rain without any reason?"

She reminded Angelina a bit of Molly, again, though the glance in Ginny's eyes betrayed her, she definitely knew all this wasn't 'without any reason'.

Angelina took a sip from the steaming cup and shivered as she felt the mint-tasting tea down her throat. Maybe she had caught a cold after all. She watched as Ginny sighed deeply and got down to get something black off the floor.

"Harry_ really_ needs to clean up his bloody dirty socks." Ginny said, throwing the socks in the direction of the bathroom. "Cookie?" she added.

Angelina nodded and smiled slightly as she took a biscuit from the colourful jar that stood in the middle of the table. The jar was the kind of orange that hurt your eyes and two shiny "C"'s were pictured on it.

"Chudley Cannons," Ginny said, "present from Ron, naturally."

Angelina still hadn't said a word yet, dilemmas really are a pain in the ass. Ginny seemed to have noticed this and sat down opposite Angelina.

"So tell me," she said. "What is going on?"

Angelina opened and closed her mouth a few times, having no words to begin with.

"Don't tell me it's nothing, 'cause it's as obvious as when Percy tried to keep his relationship with Penelope Clearwater a secret. And, damn, was that obvious back then."

"George has a secret." Angelina stated suddenly.

This sudden sort of confession seemed to surprise Ginny and, to be honest, it kind of surprised Angelina as well.

"Secret, as in, secret from you? As his wife?"

Angelina shook her head quickly. The last thing she wanted Ginny to think was that her husband had some secret love affair. "No no! A secret I'm aware of, but..."

"But?" Ginny urged.

"But I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

"But?"

"But I _have_ to tell someone." Angelina managed to keep her calm, if only just. She reached for her teacup again, but she accidentally pushed it over, causing the cup to fall to the ground in a million tiny pieces. The tea dripped slowly from the table and made a nasty spot on the floor. It seemed as if not a single thing could go right for Angelina. She began to cry out of pure desperation, all the thoughts and issues troubling her mind.

"Easy, easy!" Ginny soothed her quickly. "Look!" She pointed her wand at the broken cup and mumbled 'Reparo' under her breath. The pieces lifted from the ground and fitted together again like a puzzle. The fixed cup landed on the table again with a light 'thump'.

"See?" Ginny said. "It can be fixed, everything can be fixed. If only you give it some time."

Angelina's cheeks were now wet with tears. She hated how much she had been crying lately. She hated how she was crying over a damn teacup at that very moment. She hated the current situation. She hated herself for thinking and over-thinking the way she had been doing lately. But she loved George, and she loved Fred, and she wanted the best for both of them. And in her heart she knew that the way things were right now wasn't 'the best'. Far from it. How she knew this? No idea; maybe that motherly instinct she'd been waiting for all those years since little Fred was born had finally decided to show up. Would be about time.

Realising she had been lost in thought for some time once again, she searched Ginny's face. Nothing but confusion and wonder was to be read from it.

"It's... dangerous." Angelina started off. "Or potentially dangerous." She shook her head. "I don't really know. Either way, it might have something to do with magic. Not the good kind of magic."

Ginny still looked confused. "What? What kind of horror has George gotten himself into?"

"Horror? No!" Angelina nearly exclaimed, taking a hold of the empty cold cup. " He hasn't been happier! That's the tricky thing."

"You really aren't making things any clearer." Ginny simply stated.

Angelina let out a thoughtful sigh. No way of returning now, mrs. Weasley-Johnson, she thought.

"It's Fred." she said.

"Little Fred?" Ginny answered with a tiny bit of false hope in her voice, as if she knew what Angelina was about to say already.

"Old Fred. Your brother. The one who should be dead." Angelina's voice broke.

Ginny's eyes grew wide, like she was caught up in both happiness and terrified shock. "Wh-what do you mean?"

Angelina buried her face in her hands, the way George always did when he was upset. "George found some rock in the Forest at Hogwarts and since then he's been able to see Fred whenever he wants."

"See Fred?"

"Whenever he holds the stone. He appears to be some kind of ghost, but not quite." Angelina sniffed, trying to retain her tears. "You can only see him by keeping a hold of that rock and thinking hard about him." she explained.

"Have you – " Ginny started, but Angelina nodded immediately.

"I saw him. Only once."

"Woah." Ginny put her index fingers to her temples. "Are you both delusional?" She shook her head, as if realising that was a bit of an insult. "I'm sorry. I mean, F-Fred! My brother! I _need_ to see him! It can't be true, I have to talk to him! Tell him I love him! I... I – "

Ginny trailed off, obviously confounded about this brand new information.

"Shhh..." Angelina tried to calm her down by rubbing her back. "Just... Let it sink in. It's quite a lot to take. I shouldn't have told you in the first place, should've known it'd only confuse you. This shouldn't even be happening right now. I should just – "

"A rock, you said?" A low voice sounded from the hallway. The two women heard steps and soon Harry Potter stood in the kitchen, his eyes peering suspiciously through his all-too-familiar round glasses. "What did it look like?"

Both Angelina and Ginny looked at him in shock. How long had he been standing there? He wasn't supposed to hear _any _of this!

"What did it look like?" He asked once again, though now his voice sounded more urgent.

"Uhm... I-I don't know." Angelina mumbled, trying to recall the appearance of the tiny stone. "It was small, about this big," she kept her fingers about an inch apart, "and it was black, with sharp edges. It was shaped a bit like a diamant, I think."

"Clearly handmade? And he found that in the Forest? Isn't that... Odd?" Ginny reasoned.

Angelina nodded, quietly cursing herself for not noticing that earlier, since it was quite evident.

Harry bit his lip, thinking hard. "Did it have some kind of symbol on it?"

"I think so, yes."

He quickly got some paper and a quill and drew a triangle with a circle and a vertical line in it. Then he shoved the paper towards Angelina and looked at her expectantly.

"Yes, I think that's the one!" she said, slightly recognizing the symbol. "What does it mean?"

Harry just shook his head in frustration. "This isn't good. This isn't good at all."

"Wait," Ginny said suddenly, she probably hadn't been paying attention to the conversation at all, lost in her own thoughts. "Harry, have you been listening to our conversation all that time?"

Harry shrugged. "What? Me? No!"

Ginny didn't look convinced and raised an eyebrow.

"After all those years since I met you, you haven't changed a thing, y'know. Still as nosy as back at Hogwarts." Angelina smiled.

"I know, I know. I was rude eavesdropping on you." Harry admitted. Then he added, "Those socks weren't dirty by the way, and they weren't mine either. But that's not the point." Harry threw his hands up in the air. He was somehow slightly frustrated that the other two didn't seem to understand what he had been talking about.

"Harry?" Angelina asked. "What _is _ the point of this all?"

Harry shook his head once more. "This is really bad."

"Harry, what is it? Is it real? Is Fred back?" Ginny pulled Harry's sleeve, desperate for a reply, a proper explanation. She didn't dare to hope. Just the idea of her brother being back again, after everything that had happened... It was driving her crazy.

Harry, however, walked out of the room. Angelina and Ginny quickly followed him, demanding him to tell what he meant. Walking to the bookshelf, he shushed them. He got out one of the books and showed it to them.

"'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'? Seriously?" Angelina began.

"This is no time for fairy tales, Harry!" Ginny said, starting to get angry.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, that's what I thought at first as well. But didn't you ever... wonder? The muggles know lots and lots of tales and stories about wizards as well, believing them to be just that, fictional tales, but they don't have a clue how wrong they are. What if our fairy tales are just like that?"

Ginny just stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Are you trying to say those fairy tales are real?" Angelina suggested.

"Not all of them, not as far as I know, anyway." Harry explained. "But I know one which is definitely true. Which we all played a major part in, I must add."

"What?" Angelina and Ginny said in unison.

"The Tale of the Three Brothers!" Harry exclaimed, as if it were obvious. He opened the book and began to turn over the pages.

Angelina threw a look at Ginny, who was eyeing her with confusion. "I still don't get it." Angelina said. "What do _we _have to do with the Three Brothers? That is supposed to have taken place ages ago! All three of the brothers died a long time ago."

"Exactly. But the Deathly Hallows remained." Harry pointed out. "Do you remember? I told you I defeated Voldemort with a wand, more powerful than any other. Doesn't that ring a bell?"

Angelina's mouth fell open. She knew the tale by heart, her mum had read it to her so often when she was little. "You don't mean to say that that wand – "

"The Elder Wand, that's right." Harry interrupted her. "And my invisibility cloak, that's the one of the third brother."

"You have got to be joking." Ginny said, her expression blank.

"I'm sorry for not telling you earlier. I thought it would be for the better. If everyone knew about it, people would start searching for the Hallows."

It made Angelina think. "What does this all have to do with Fred? Supposing what you say is true, I mean."

Harry showed her the book, which was opened at the Tale of the Three Brothers. He pointed at a tiny picture on the bottom of the page.

"But – But that's the symbol, on the stone!" Angelina yelled as she recognised the triangle.

Harry nodded. "The Resurrection Stone. I reckon you know what it does?"

Ginny shook her head, this was way too much to take for her, and Angelina could sense it. "It brings back the ones who d – " Her voice trembled so badly she had to break off her sentence halfway. "the ones who died."

"Exactly." Harry let out a growl of frustration. "I thought nobody would find it! I just dropped it in the Forest. I just dropped it... I should've hidden it better."

"You had the stone?" Angelina asked. "And now..." Slowly the pieces were fitting together. George had found the stone. That was why Fred was back. George had the Resurrection Stone.

"So it's true?" Ginny asked. "Is my brother _really_ back?"

Harry shook his head violently. "No! No! It's not him. Well, it is, but it's just his... Ghost. Or something like that."

Angelina nodded in agreement.

Ginny's eyes grew huge. "But, I _have _to see him!" She looked around quickly before hurrying to the hallway to grab her coat.

"Oh no!" Harry stopped her by going to stand in front of her, blocking her way. "You aren't going anywhere." He then saw the desperate expression of his wife. "I'm sorry, Gin, but do you remember what happened to the second brother?"

Ginny nodded lightly, a tear streaming down her face.

"In that case you know it would be the best for you not to get involved in this. I don't want you to get hurt." Harry planted a kiss on Ginny's forehead. "Please, stay? For me?"

Ginny looked troubled. "He's my brother!"

Angelina, for once, wasn't really paying attention to the conversation. _Do you remember what happened to the second brother?_ Suddenly she understood Harry's urgency.

"Harry? We have to go. Now." she managed to get out.

Harry nodded and ran outside, grabbing his coat and putting it on. Angelina followed him, knowing they were only able to apparate once they were off the Potters' terrain. She was fighting the sting in her stomach and tried to keep up with Harry, leaving Ginny behind, confused and close to tears.

There was one sentence from the fairy tale that made Angelina hurry even more. One sentence that scared her even back when she was a little kid. She had always felt sorry for the second brother, who had died just because he missed someone so badly, who had killed himself out of grief.

The sentence just kept haunting her mind, but she couldn't think of what it might mean for George, she couldn't manage to think of it that way.

_And so Death took the second brother for his own_.


	21. Chapter 21

21. Smile It Away

_~ A day earlier ~_

Fred watched as George's chest raised and fell. He slept with his mouth slightly open, which gave him an oh-so-charming look. Not.

Fred wondered whether he looked the same way when he was asleep. Of course not, he thought to himself, I'm still the better-looking one. He grinned, but soon found he didn't think it was funny at all.

On the contrary.

He couldn't look like George when he was asleep. For one thing, he didn't think he could sleep at all, not in this creepy ghost-like form. Plus, George had aged, while he himself hadn't. No, Fred was still stuck being 20 years of age, never to turn 21, no matter how many April Fools' Days would pass.

Dammit, he had let that big greyish unhappiness cloud his mind again. He had promised himself not to let that happen! His only purpose in life – or afterlife, whatever – was to keep George happy, in order to do that he needed to at least pretend he was happy himself.

Unfortunately, Fred had found it harder and harder to keep himself happy as time went. It was as if a Dementor was creeping up on him, coming closer and closer every minute of every day. The unhappy thoughts were impossible to get rid of by now, while the joyous thoughts slipped away more quickly.

Dementors. Yes, that's what it felt like. He remembered the first time he had encountered one, on the train to Hogwarts, in their fifth year. He'd heard stories of his dad about those horrible creatures before, but he never imagined them to be that terrible. That feeling they had given him... It was indescribable. Luckily George had been on his side at that time, like always. He had felt exactly the same way and they could talk to each other about it.

Only now there wasn't even the possibility to talk to George about how he felt. He couldn't tell George he felt like he was slowly falling apart. He couldn't tell George how he had some difficulty with remembering things from the past. How he couldn't remember every kid in their year at Hogwarts, how yesterday he had even been in doubt about their best friend's first name; Leo? Lee?

The insecurities, the non-stop doubts, it was driving Fred crazy. It was like he felt himself fading away slowly, and he couldn't stop it. He often wondered what was going to happen to him. Would he have to stay with George forever, feeling this way? What if George just dropped that damn stone back in the Forest again?

But George would never do that. George would never let go of Fred, because Fred wouldn't be telling him how miserable he really felt. He couldn't.

George suddenly moved in his sleep. He turned around and put his arm around Angelina, who was lying next to him. Watching them, Fred felt like such a stalker. Just watching people while they were sleeping... Yes, he definitely considered himself a creep at that very moment. But he didn't have much of a choice. He had to keep close to the stone, he didn't seem to be able to move too far away from it. So he was literally stuck. No way out. He didn't think even killing himself would get him out of this. He had already died once, and he can't die twice, can he? Not that he wanted to kill himself, of course, he couldn't do that to George.

No, he would be strong. For his brother. For his best friend. For his partner in crime.

He would just do what he had done all his life: smile it away and pretend everything's okay.

A beam of sunlight woke George up. He blinked a few times before looking around and noticing Angelina was already out of bed. Odd, usually she'd wake him up, even in the weekends. Something about 'not wanting to waist your day sleeping', George had never really understood it, let alone agreed to it.

He took a minute to stretch out and wake himself up. Then he glanced at the clock – What? Half past one already? It couldn't be!

Cursing to himself, he rolled out of bed – literally – and trudged towards his wardrobe. Looking for some fitting clothes to wear on his day off, his eye fell on one of his older jackets, which was shoved away to the back of the wardrobe. He had bought it once, with Fred, when they first opened the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Oi, Fred, do you remember when we – " George stopped talking and turned around. Why had he only now realised the silence around him? He clenched and unclenched his hands quickly a couple of times. They were empty, how could they be empty?

Panic.

He searched his pockets, searched the floor, his night stand, his bed, once, twice.

This couldn't be happening.

He had to find it. He _had_ to.

"Not again, not again, not again." He whispered. His mind was blank.

He searched the bed again, now tearing the blankets off it.

_Thump._

A tiny black stone rolled from the blankets onto the ground.

Filled with relief, George sighed, accidentally dropping the stone another two times in his hurry. He held it tightly and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he cracked a smile. Fred was standing in front of him again, although he didn't seem quite the same as the past few weeks. He seemed confused, like he had been disturbed while thinking about something very serious. He also seemed rather... dull. Something had changed about him, not only about his expression, which was close to depression, but also about his appearance. It looked as if he was a little less _solid_, somehow, like he was covered in a grey haze.

Or maybe it was just that George wasn't fully awake yet. Maybe he just saw things that weren't there. Fred couldn't feel sick in the first place, now, could he? And what else could possibly be wrong with him?

Fred blinked. "What time is it?"

George grinned and pointed at the clock. "Good afternoon, Freddie!"

Though Fred didn't laugh. "Wow, I think I sort of passed out for a couple of hours..." He held his head with his hand as if he had a headache.

"Yeah, I think I dropped the stone in my sleep. I'm sorry." George looked down at the floor, a little ashamed of himself for letting go of Fred that easily. "Are you okay?"

Fred nodded, finally cracking a smile. "Hey, what about going for a walk? I feel like going outside!"

George raised a brow. "Uhm... sure? Sounds like fun. Let's go!" He made his way to the hall to go outside.

"George?" Fred said, still standing at the same place.

George turned around. "Hmm?"

"Maybe you should put on some pants and a shirt first." Fred pointed at him. "I don't think the muggles fancy half-naked guys walking through their town."

George laughed and walked back to his wardrobe. "Shut up, you!"

A little while later George closed the front door and the twins set off for a walk.

"Anywhere in particular you wanna go to?"

Fred shrugged. "Dunno, just wanted to go out for a while."

George eyed him suspiciously. "Is everything allright, Fred?" Now that he had been awake for some time and a nice spring breeze had cleared his senses, he definitely saw that something was wrong with Fred.

"What?" Fred answered, surprised. "Of course!" That smile appeared again. "Nothing wrong, I'm fine." He glided towards the edge of the forest, which wasn't all too far from their house.

George decided to stop talking about it and followed his brother into the woods. They walked on in silence for a while, not talking to nor looking at one another. George felt terrible about this. Once, a long time ago, they could've told each other everything, absolutely everything. But now, with this awkward silence between them... He just knew Fred was hiding something from him, if only he knew what.

Why didn't he just ask him, he thought.

Maybe it was this awful feeling inside his chest which kept him from doing so. He suspected it was the memory of the time before he had found the stone. The loneliness, the desperation.

He just didn't want to lose Fred ever again, not in any way. Perhaps he was afraid Fred would become mad at him, if he kept on asking what was wrong.

Oh great, now the weather seemed to have taken over George's mood. Raindrops began to fall down and the sky was covered in dark clouds, giving the forest a shadowy atmosphere. Even the trees seemed to have adapted the greyness.

He heard Fred coughing next to him. After another short silence, Fred said something, finally.

"Remember that time when we tried to eavesdrop on the Order, when Crookshanks demolished our Extendible Ears?"

George was confused. So they were back to reminiscing, then? Hadn't Fred felt the uncomfortable sphere around them?

"Uhm, I remember, yes."

"I was so pissed at that bloody cat back then." Fred chuckled. "But in the end, it was all pretty funny, don't you think?"

George recalled that moment, how they all stood on the third or fourth floor of Sirius' house, a thin robe hanging down towards the ground floor. They must've looked like idiots, how they all eagerly held on to the end of the rope, trying to hear whatever was being said by the people in the kitchen.

And then there came Crookshanks, being his cat-like annoying self.

"Yeah, maybe it was kind of hilarious..." George said, grinning. "I could've killed that cat back then, though. And if mum would've caught us..."

"...A howler would've been nothing compared to what she would've done to us."

"Absolutely nothing."

The rain began to pour down right now, so the twins looked at one another and gave a simultaneous nod. They quickly made their way to one of the bigger trees in the forest and sat down near the tree trunk, using it as shelter.

George didn't have a clue for how long they sat there. They spent there time reminiscing several other idiotic things they'd done in the past, like how they stole Percy's badge all the time, giving it some 'necessary changes'.

It didn't take long for George to forget about all his worries and he soon felt like he was 19 again, just sitting in his room with Fred, talking about _everything_. Oh yes, they hadn't always been busy preparing pranks. Sometimes they just felt like talking, even about the more serious issues.

Soon the leaves of the tree couldn't stop the rain anymore and Fred and George needed to find a new place to shelter. But since everything was soaked by now, they decided to head back home instead.

"Hey, what's that?" Fred said suddenly as they were walking, pointing to some point in the distance, near the edge of the forest. George looked and saw two dark figures moving towards them. One of them had long, dark hair, the other's was cut short and seemed rather messy. Neither of them had an umbrella.

"I think that is..."

"_Angelina_." George finished Fred's sentence for him. "But what on earth is she doing here, in the rain? And who's with her?"

Suddenly they heard a voice, yelling.

"GEORGE!"

Why did she sound so worried?

Fred and George threw one perplexed glance at each other before they started running towards Angelina.

George didn't get the change to say a single thing when he reached Angelina, as the girl had thrown her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"George, oh George, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay!"

George, who was still slightly confused, just pulled her away a little, looking into her eyes. "Angelina, what are you talking about?"

Now Angelina faced the ground, refusing to look George in the eyes, as if she were ashamed. The second figure appeared behind her, it was Harry, who looked slightly out of breath.

George looked at Fred, who just shrugged. They silently agreed; sense it made none.

However, Harry didn't give any explanation and simply stated: "You have to give me the stone, George."

George's eyes grew wide. How did he know about the stone? He couldn't! The only person who could've possibly told him about it was...

"_You told him?_" He stepped away from Angelina.

Angelina looked like a shy fallen angel, fragile and sad. "I-I'm so so sorry!" She stammered. "I was just so worried about you a-and Ginny – "

"I _told _you not to tell anyone!" George felt an unexplainable rage burning inside of him, couldn't he trust any living person on this earth anymore?

"Take it easy." Fred whispered, trying to calm George down. Not that it helped much, though.

"I trusted you!"

Harry put a hand on his shoulder. "Be reasonable, George. She just wants the best for you, she loves you."

"Get your hands off of me, Harry!" George stepped back, the stone clenched in his fist. He heard Fred breathing out loudly next to him, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know exactly how to put it.

"George." Harry's voice was as cold as ice. "Give. Me. The. Stone."

Hiding his hands behind his back, George thought; _Never_.

In one simple smooth move Harry had drawn his wand.

"Accio."

George felt the stone slip out of his hands, the breathing had stopped and when he looked back, Fred wasn't there. Harry, on the other side, was standing opposite of him, seeming quite fond of himself. He wrapped George's dear stone in a piece of cloth and put it away into his pocket.

"Now, we need to talk." Harry said calmly.

However, George didn't feel like talking at all.

Just as calmly, George said. "Give me back the stone."

Harry said nothing, he merely shook his head, slowly.

"Please, just understand I'm trying to help you!" Angelina cried. "It's for the best!"

"For the best?" George answered unbelieving. "I was happy, Angelina. For the first time in years, I was actually happy. Why did you have to take that away from me?"

Angelina just sobbed.

"Don't you see what it's doing to you?" Harry sounded angry now. "It's consuming you, both you and Fred. It's wrong to hold on to the people who're supposed to be gone, George, you should know that."

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT IT?" George yelled.

"Actually, quite much." How could he stay so calm? The anger inside of George took over. He wanted his brother back. He _needed_ that stone back. In a wave of emotions, he ran towards Harry. And he hit him.

Harry was thunderstruck, slowly he raised his hand to his face and touched the sore spot where George's fist had hit him.

"That's it." He said. "I'm not going to finish this... conversation in the rain. Come, Angelina."

He disapparated.

Angelina looked at George, disappointed. "What have you done?" She simply asked, and a moment later she disapparated as well.

George hadn't ever felt this horrible in his life. He was alone – completely alone in this godforsaken forest. He wouldn't let Harry take his brother away, so he quickly followed his wife and brother-in-law and disapparated to the edge of the forest.

Harry and Angelina were standing near the kitchen window of his house, peeking inside as if they were trying to watch something or someone inside the house.

"Give it _back_, Harry!" George yelled.

But he didn't get any reply, except for a simultaneous "Shhhh!".

"What?"

Breaking noises sounded from inside the house. Scratch that, it sounded like the whole house was turned upside down, like a bloody hurricane was destroying the place.

"What on earth is happening in there?" George asked.

"You mean _who_ is happening in there?" Harry corrected him, pointing at the window.


	22. Chapter 22

22. Believing In Fairy Tales

George peeked through the window, still well aware that Harry (and therefore the stone, and therefore his brother) was only a few inches away. Maybe, if he pretended to look at whatever, or _whoever_, was going on inside, he could grab the stone out of Harry's pocket, unnoticed by anyone else...

But as soon as he saw what was going on inside, this idea was forced to the back of his mind. His house was a _mess_. All the books they owned were pulled out of the bookshelf and were now all over the floor, some of them were ripped to shreds, like someone had unleashed a _Monster Book of Monsters_ on them. This was probably also the case, George thought, since one of those books had indeed been on the shelf, safely sealed with Spello-tape so that it couldn't hurt anybody, as it had almost bitten off Roxanne's index finger a few years ago.

However, that wasn't the only thing that made the house look like an angry Hippogriff had made its way through it. The kitchen table was knocked over, the flower vase that had stood on it lay on the floor in bits and pieces. Every drawer was pulled open, and turned over, all their contents spread over the floor.

Movement.

Someone was inside, the breaking noise started again and George saw a flash of red hair.

"What the – "

George stood up swiftly and sprinted to the front door, almost running into it because he forgot to open it.

"Hell to the no!" He yelled, running inside, making nasty stains of mud and water on the floor. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

The red head turned around and Ginny's shocked eyes looked at him. She was absolutely speechless.

Harry and Angelina had followed him and froze in the doorway.

"Ginny? I had told you not to-"

George interrupted Harry immediately. "Why?" George voice sounded unbelieving, a bit disappointed, really.

That one simple word seemed to affect Ginny a lot. She hurried towards George and hugged him, burying her face in her brother's jacket.

"I'm sorry, George, I'm so so sorry!" She sniffed. "I just... I need to see him! I need to find the stone! I can't – "

"You know? She told you?" George felt so betrayed, looking at Angelina's tearful face he didn't know whether to hate her or feel sorry for her. However, in his heart, he knew he could never hate her. Not after everything she'd done for him.

But in the end, it was her fault that he didn't have Fred anymore.

He returned his gaze to his sister, who was clinging to him like a little girl. He was kind of shocked to see her that way, he wasn't used to this. Ginny had always been the brave one, the one who was strong and kept going on when everyone else seemed to have given up.

Right now, she looked defeated, desperate. Something snapped in George, maybe things had changed, and judging from the way it looked right now, it hadn't changed for the best.

He put an arm around Ginny and patted her back, hoping she'd stop crying, because he simply couldn't handle it right now.

"She told me, but it was only because she was so worried about you! She wants to help you! Don't be mad at her!" Ginny cried.

"But they took him, Gin, they took Fred away from me." He whispered, now closing his eyes to stop his own tears from falling. Sure Ginny would understand when he said he just wanted his brother back?

Ginny looked at Harry. "Why? Couldn't you just explain it to him first? At least let him understand what this is about?"

Explain? Let him understand? What in the name of Merlin's undies were they talking about?

"I would, but he wouldn't listen! Don't you see what it did to him?" Harry pointed at George, as if he didn't hear what they were saying anyway.

"What it did to me? What are you talking about?" George yelled.

Harry shook his head. "The stone. The resurrection stone."

Why did that sound so familiar to him?

"It's the second of the three Deathly Hallows," Harry explained, "from the fairy tale."

Of course, George knew this story all too well. The second brother with his stone... Could it really be? "But that's a fairy tale!"

"Does that mean it can't be true?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes."

"Then can you explain to me how you're able to see Fred merely by taking a hold of that stone?"

George couldn't answer that, he just didn't know. Come to think about it, the stone fitted the story perfectly... Maybe a bit too perfectly.

The second brother... He killed himself out of grief. Because he'd brought his loved one back with the stone and couldn't stand seeing her drown in her own unhappiness. Her own unhappiness. Now that sounded unpleasantly familiar.

"But.. how?" George managed to say. Ginny let go of him and watched him curiously, wiping the tears out of her eyes.

"I found it and lost it in the Forest, nineteen years ago." Harry stated. He bit his lip and the fingers of his right hand twitched, as if he were eager to get the wrapped stone out of his pocket himself. It was obvious he had some history with the thing, he wouldn't have summoned his parents with it, would he? Or Sirius? Remus?

Damn, Harry really had lost a lot of people... George regretted the way he had yelled at Harry, saying he didn't know a thing about grief, because, in reality, he did. He knew a lot about it, because he had been through it all.

Something was still bugging his mind, however. He needed to know if it was true, because if it was... George didn't even want to think of what that might mean.

"Harry?" Harry looked up at him. "Can I please have my stone back? I just want to – to check something."

Harry watched him suspiciously for a moment, but then got the cloth with the stone wrapped in it out of his pocket and handed it over to him.

George took it quickly, dropping the cloth in the pile of mess that was already everywhere around him and turning the stone over in his hand. Now he knew why the odd symbol on the stone looked so familiar to him, it was in his copy of Beedle the Bard. He had seen it so often, while he read it to Roxanne and little Fred... And yet he only recognised it now.

"Wh-what happened?" Fred looked extremely confused as he appeared in front of George again.

"Harry happened." George answered, nodding at Harry, who just shrugged and mumbled something that sounded like an apology.

Ginny, however, didn't seem that comfortable with the situation. She looked around anxiously, as if she expected to see Fred too. Next thing she made her way out of the house, running outside, where the rain was still pouring down.

George looked at Angelina, worried. Luckily, she got the hint, nodded and followed Ginny out of the house. Maybe it all became too much for her, George thought. No wonder.

Harry made his way through the messy living room, took a seat and waved his wand at the fireplace. Warming his hands on the fire (since he was soaked from the terrible weather) and finally taking his gaze off of George, he bit his lip again.

"So he's here now, isn't he?" He said coldly.

George nodded. "He is."

"Why the straight face, Potter?" Fred joked, but except for the smile on his face, which seemed to be quite forced, there wasn't anything happy about him.

"Fred, you know it's wrong, don't you? This is not the way it's supposed to be. I know you don't want to hear it, especially not from me, but it's the truth." Harry looked at a particular space in mid-air, not even close to where Fred was actually standing. It would've been funny if it weren't for the tense atmosphere.

"What is he talking about? Why should this be wrong?" Fred's face looked panicked.

George tensed. Harry's words had hurt him too, and indeed, why should it be wrong? If this made them both happy, then why change anything?

"What's he saying, George?" Harry asked.

George closed his eyes, turning his face away from Harry. "He doesn't understand. _We_ don't understand. Why should any of this be wrong?" He nearly yelled as he finished his sentence. Control yourself, George, he thought, take it easy.

"Because," Harry had raised his voice too, but not in anger, merely because he wanted to make his point clear, "We all know what happened at the end of the story. The three brothers, they all died. But only one died of old age."

"If you think I'm going to kill myself – "

At that moment Angelina walked back in – without Ginny. Apparently she'd heard George's words, as she was watching him fearfully. George's anger had died out, he really couldn't hate Angelina, he loved her way too much.

"I'm not gonna do that!" George quickly added. "I wouldn't ever do that!"

Angelina nodded slowly, deciding to trust her husband on that one. "Ginny is outside, she just wants some time alone. I don't think she can handle talking to Fred just yet."

"Wow-wow, what? Ginny knows?" Fred had been playing with the fire in the fireplace (apparently he had just discovered it couldn't hurt him, so he had been trying to catch the flames for some time now), but quickly stood up while saying this. "But I can't see my little sis sad! Especially not because of me!"

George didn't know what to say, as he felt exactly the same way. Instead he just nodded and turned to Harry again. Harry raised a brow, as if asking permission to talk again. He probably sensed that Fred had been talking to George.

"He's worried about Ginny."

Harry nodded. "I am, too. But to make sure she's okay, we have to handle some other problems first."

"Yeah, I don't get it. What could possibly go wrong? I've got Fred back, that's all I ever wanted, I'm happy now." George wondered.

"Aww, shut it, you're making me blush!"

"You shut it, Fred." George snickered.

"But this magic doesn't come without a price." Harry explained, ignoring George's words to Fred and keeping his voice down for some reason. "You know the story, George. The girl that the second brother resurrected slowly fell into a depression, she didn't belong in the mortal world anymore."

An uncomfortable silence followed.

Why didn't Fred say anything? This was the moment he should deny his so-called 'depression', tell Harry there was nothing to worry about because he was feeling perfectly fine.

Unless...

"But Fred isn't like that girl, is he? He's just fine!" George looked at Fred for confirmation.

"Oh – yes! Yes! I'm absolutely fine!" Fred said, he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips a little.

No way.

"You're lying."

"What?" Fred said, semi-surprised. "I'm not!"

"Yes you are! I'm not an idiot, Fred." George turned away from him, moving the stone from hand to hand. "I know when you're lying, because I know what _I _looked like when _I_ was lying nineteen years ago!"

Fred opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again quickly.

Harry and Angelina, who only got to hear half of the conversation, looked at one another awkwardly. George didn't really care they were present during their argument, he was just so disappointed in his brother. If even Fred lied to him, who could he trust?

"You _lied_ to me, why?"

This must have been the first time in his life George'd seen Fred _this_ speechless.

"I – I just..." He swallowed. "I just didn't want you to get hurt. I thought, as long as I'd pretend nothing was wrong, you'd be happy."

George's mouth fell open. "I can't be happy when you're not!"

Angelina squeaked a bit, she tends to do that when she hears something either really sad or really 'cute'. This would probably be listed as both for her.

Harry shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "The point is, this isn't good for any of you, for any of us. There's going to come a time when you have to let go, George."

"But I don't want to let go." George's voice broke.

"Do you want Fred to feel the way he does right now?"

George looked at Fred, who was trying to smile, reassuring him he'd be okay, but he wasn't going to fool anybody. George remembered the differences. Fred had changed. He'd become sadder, more serious, only joking to cheer George up. He realised that now, Fred wasn't feeling good, he was feeling miserable as hell. And George could've seen it, if only he had wanted to see it. He hurt Fred way too much already, he couldn't hold on to him if he would be torturing him even more. He wouldn't ever be able to forgive himself.

Slowly, George shook his head.

"But... Georgie? _You_ should be happy, you have your whole life ahead of you! I don't care about myself, if only – "

"But I do, Fred. I do care about you. And I'm not gonna hurt you anymore, Harry is right." This was the first time Harry saw George cry. Angelina immediately stood by his side and squeezed his hand, letting him know she was there for him. Harry merely patted his shoulder. George nodded at them both, as a way of saying 'thank you'.

Resurrecting the dead, stones with magic abilities, fairy tales that ended up being real, George didn't even know what he should and shouldn't believe anymore.

"Maybe saying goodbye is for the best after all." George sniffed. "Are you okay with that, Fred?"

Fred nodded, sadness written all over his face. "Only if you promise you'll be okay."

Smiling, George said. "Of course I will. What's the worst that could happen? Losing my other ear?"

The three of them chuckled, which made George feel kind of smug.

"I missed that."Angelina whispered.

George looked at her. "Missed what?"

Angelina breathed out, a smile upon her face. "The old George." When George kept looking at her with confusion, she explained. "You've been... different, lately. Not quite yourself. That's what worried me in the first place. I missed my George."

George had a lump in his throat. "I'm so sorry, Angelina. I didn't even notice it. I didn't want to change, I didn't want you to be unhappy. I didn't want anyone to be unhappy, yet that's all I did, I made people unhappy." His voice was creaky, he felt defeated and all he wanted to do is lie down, sleep and wake up to a world in which everything would be like it used to be, when times were still easy and _good_. "Please, Angelina, remind me who I really am."

He didn't want to lose Fred, yet he had to. He didn't want to hurt people, yet he did. What was wrong with him lately?

Angelina hugged him. "I will, George. I always will."

"Well, at least I know you're in good hands, but it's always been that way, I guess." Fred said softly. "I guess we'll have to say goodbye then?"

"What? Say goodbye? Now?" George exclaimed. He wasn't ready for that, not yet. Could you ever be ready for something like this? Saying goodbye to someone so close to you, someone you will never, ever, see again?

A movement near the front door caught his attention and soon Ginny's voice filled the room. "Not yet. You can't say goodbye."

Her cheeks were red, as were her eyes.

All of them looked at her expectantly.

"You do understand that we'll have to let go of him, don't you?" Harry said weary.

George heard Fred swallow, undoubtedly fearing the unknown.

"I understand, I do." Ginny said. "But the others won't."

"The others?" Angelina, George and Fred said simultaneously.

"Yes, the others." Ginny confirmed. "You _are_ going to tell mum and dad about this, aren't you? And what about Bill, Charlie and Ron? Don't they deserve to say goodbye? You know as well as I do that Percy is dying to talk to Fred."

Blimey, George hadn't thought about that. And by the look of Fred's face, George could tell he hadn't, either. They couldn't just involve them all in this, could they? But if they didn't, they'd feel guilty for the rest of their lives. They were family, they had just as much right to see Fred as they had, especially now Harry and Angelina knew it too.

"What are you suggesting?" Harry asked.

"We can't have a giant family meeting, can we?" Angelina asked, as if the idea itself was overly ridiculous.

"Can't we?" Ginny said, her eyes glistering.

What did she have in mind this time?


	23. Chapter 23

23. Sweet Goodbyes

Fred was alone. Leaning against an old and dusty looking armchair, he watched the room he was in. A ray of sunshine beamed through the skylight, illuminating all the stuff in the room. The Potters' attic really was a mess. It looked as if they just threw every piece of nonsense they wouldn't be needing any time soon up the stairs and into the room, which probably also was the case.

Looking through the mess, Fred recognised an owl cage that – if he wasn't utterly mistaken – had belonged to Hedwig. He also saw some old broomsticks and cauldrons spread across the floor, a few chairs, a broken table (Yeah, sure, why repair it when you can buy 100 new tables with the same ease...) and even an old clock which Fred was quite sure had once stood in the Dursleys' house.

It was odd, though, Fred thought, how he hadn't been able to stay conscious – if that was the right word – when George'd let go of the stone, yet now nobody held the stone and still, he was right there. Before he'd always just disappear if the stone wasn't held by anyone thinking of him, why was it different this time?

But that wasn't the only thing that was different about him. Since they'd made these arrangements, since Fred knew he wasn't going to be trapped here forever, he felt happier. The depressing feeling he'd been coping with the last few weeks had almost disappeared completely, maybe due to the fact that he knew there was another way.

And now he just had to wait.

He watched the stone, which was placed on a little side table. It looked so harmless, so innocent, nothing compared to the things it could actually do. Fred hated the stone for making him feel this way, for forcing him and his family to say goodbye, but he loved it at the same time. After all, without the stone he wouldn't be here, he would've never gotten a second chance.

Now he just had to make sure he did this right.

The door of the attic creaked as it opened – how appropriate, Fred thought – and Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walked into the room. They held each others hand tightly, not in a romantic, but in a friendly way, as it had always been between the two. There had been times when even George had thought Hermione fancied Harry and the other way around, but Fred had always known that that wasn't true. No, Fred had soon noticed the side-way glances between his little brother and Hermione, never at the same time, so they didn't see one another looking. Fred had been astonished he was the only one who seemed to have noticed it, but now that the two were happily married, even 19 years later, he felt smug.

Hermione glanced through the room, not looking Fred in the eye as she obviously couldn't see him yet. She then threw an annoyed glance at Harry.

"Really Harry? Couldn't you at least _try_ to clean up a bit?"

"It's an attic! It's supposed to be a bit messy." Harry shrugged.

"_A bit messy_?" Hermione eyed him, Fred cracked a smile.

Harry, however, didn't respond and pulled Hermione over to the stone. They looked at one another.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"Ready." Hermione nodded, taking her eye off a wobbly pile of cauldrons. They grabbed the stone, closed their eyes for a moment and then opened them again.

Hermione gasped. "F-fred? You look exactly the same as all those years ago!"

Fred grinned. "You definitely don't." He pointed at her long brown hair, which was now in a bun. "Is that a grey hair I see?"

Hermione's hand shot up to her head, but she chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "Shut up, Weasley."

Harry smiled too. "It's good to see you, Fred."

They talked for a few minutes, mainly reminiscing the silly things that had happened over 19 years ago, but also about Harry's and Hermione's life right now. They mentioned their children and Fred needed some explanation on the fact that Harry had chosen to name one of his sons Albus _Severus_. Even after hearing the full story about Snape he still wondered why one would name his son after a greasy-haired large-nosed grumpy professor who had apparently fancied their mum, but that was probably just him.

"We really have to go now." Harry stated suddenly, watching the door. "The others will be waiting."

They had decided to all enter the room one by one, so each could have their own proper goodbye. Fred was okay with that, since picturing his entire family and all his friends trying to hold the Resurrection Stone at once just made him giggle. Mission Impossible for sure, no need to try.

Hermione watched him with sad eyes. Now came the first _real_ goodbye, and Fred didn't want to do this at all.

"Thank you for teaching me how to laugh, Fred." Hermione said, her voice trembling. "I wish I had been more like you back at school. Fun and amusing and all."

"Don't you say that, Hermione! You shouldn't wish to change who you are, you're brilliant, just like this." Fred said. "Even if that means you threatened to tell our mum what we were up to every now and then, or told us off for having fun..." His voice trailed off and he looked at Hermione with a smirk.

Luckily, she smiled too, a single tear dripping down her cheek. "You never change, do you?"

"He never does," Harry said, "And he better never will, I like him far too much this way."

"Don't make me blush, Potter!" Fred laughed.

They chuckled, but then Harry coughed and raised his voice. "So, this is goodbye then, I guess."

"We always loved you, Fred, and we missed you the past nineteen years. And we will miss you again, until the end of our days!" Hermione cried.

"The end of your days, huh?" Fred said. "I don't think that's necessary. I mean, I'm supposed to be dead, and still here I am! My days aren't over yet, and I'm sure I'll see you again some time."

"We will, we definitely will." Harry smiled. "Goodbye, Fred."

Hermione buried her face in Harry's shoulder and muttered a goodbye too. They slowly laid down the stone, both glancing at Fred for one last time, and then quietly left the room. Fred waved, knowing all too well that they couldn't see him.

It didn't take too long for the next people to enter the room. His two oldest brothers shuffled through the door, both with sad looks upon their faces, both not saying a word. They immediately reached for the stone, not paying attention to the messy room as Hermione had done, and held it together. How odd it looked for Fred to see his two bad-ass brothers holding hands.

Bill looked slightly different. His hair wasn't as long as it always had been, it had been cut short but was still flaming red. His style of clothes hadn't changed though, he still wore boots made out of dragon hide and clothes that would be suitable at a rock concert. Fred could also still see a little fang dangling from his ear, though it wasn't as large and obnoxious as he remembered it. The scar that Fenrir Greyback had left on his face was still clearly visible.

Charlie – almost a head shorter than Bill – wasn't as badly injured as nineteen years ago, he didn't have any fresh blisters or wounds he could've gotten from one of the ferocious dragons in Romania, though he still had a considerable amount of scars.

They both gasped as they saw Fred and smiled slightly.

"We missed you, little brother!" Charlie said, resisting the urge to lift his arm and padded Fred on the back.

"I missed you too." Fred smiled sadly. "So, you've changed! What's with the hair, Bill? And are you still working in Romania, Charles?"

"Oh please, just because I'm forty doesn't mean you can call me Charles!" Charlie laughed. "But no, I do some small jobs every now and then, mostly here in Britain, but sometimes in Germany, Sweden and occasionally Romania."

"And about my hair..." Bill started, rolling his eyes. "Mum finally got to me, I guess. And I'm not twenty anymore, so maybe it's better this way. Fleur likes it, at least. I had to tell you how sorry she was and that she misses you."

Fred nodded. It was hard to see how everyone seemed to have moved on with their lives, while he couldn't remember where the bloody hell he had been all those years.

"Tell Fleur I said hi, and that she doesn't need to be sorry. I had much fun with her all those years ago." Bill raised an eyebrow and Fred continued, chuckling. "Well, getting everyone to place bets on her when she didn't win the Triwizard Tournament in the end... The profit we had was partly thanks to her!"

"You evil little weasel." Bill grinned.

"Did she get rid of that accent yet?"

Charlie laughed. "What d'ya think? At least she is still good-looking enough for both of zem, I theenk!"

"You guys are so mean." pouted Bill.

Fred smiled. "I'm glad, though. About the way things go right now, I mean. I had expected everyone to come through that door and just burst into tears, not even bearing to look at me..." His voice trailed off.

"I know," Charlie nodded sadly, "It probably would've gone that way if they hadn't told us about you first. A bit of preparation helps a lot, you see. At least you can think about what you want to say and accept it and all."

"And what is it you wanted to say to me?"

Charlie sighed, looking at Bill. "Just that we miss you."

Bill swallowed and added in a soft voice. "And that life isn't the same anymore, without your jokes and pranks."

"And mum's angry rants whenever you thought out something incredibly hilarious again." Charlie added, smiling.

"Yeah," Fred reminisced. "Her rants were probably my worst fear, yet I couldn't help but provoke her."

"I remember that time when I was twelve, right before I went to Hogwarts for my second year." Charlie said. "I had this broomstick and was flying around in the yard. You and George were angry because mum wouldn't let you fly it. And somehow," he chuckled, "accidentally, of course, the tail of my broomstick caught fire."

"Accidentally, of course." Fred smiled at the memory.

Bill cupped his chin with his hand, as if thinking very hard. "Wasn't that the time when mum let Fred and George eat outside, so she wouldn't have to look at them?"

"I remember that!" Fred laughed. "We threw all our food at the gnomes in the garden and ended up lying awake all night because we were so hungry!"

"The only thing I remember is you yelling 'But mum! I wanna be a seeker!'" Bill laughed.

"A seeker? Really?" Fred asked. He couldn't even imagine himself being a seeker. As a beater, he had been a real team with George, the other beater, but as a seeker he would've had to do everything on his own.

Just like right now.

Bill sighed again. "Maybe it's better if we go now, mum's probably waiting."

"Mum's coming right now?" Fred said, he was incredibly glad to see her again, but was also feeling a bit reluctant, who knew how she'd react?

Charlie nodded. "Yes, she and dad would've come earlier, right after Harry and Hermione, but..." There was a short awkward silence before he concluded. "She simply couldn't."

Fred felt a lump in his throat, both because he felt so sorry for his mum and because he was about to say goodbye – maybe even farewell, who knows? – to his two elder brothers. He had always looked up to them, he had always wanted to be like them when he grew up, fighting dragons or working with goblins, handling buckets full of galleons.

But he never got the chance to become like them. Surely he had chased his dreams, opened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and made lots of money, but he never _really_ got the chance to grow up, and he never would.

"Well, goodbye, then." Fred murmured.

Bill and Charlie nodded.

"Goodbye, Fred. We love you, you will always be our little brother." Bill said.

"And we'll see you again soon, right?" Charlie added.

Fred grimaced. "Not too soon, I hope!"

"We'll promise you that!" They laughed, although their voices sounded heavy with sadness.

A last smile, and then the two put down the stone and walked out of the room.

It took a few minutes before his mum and dad entered the room, but at long last, they did. His mum had changed a lot. Her hair was grey, with a here and there a tuft of ginger. She was holding a pile of fabric in all sorts of colours and her cheeks and eyes were red, like she'd been crying really badly. His dad had an arm around her and tried to comfort her.

"Shhh, Molly. Don't cry now, you don't want to face Fred that last time with your eyes full of tears, do you?"

Molly murmured something inaudiable and sobbed, trying, in vain, to wipe away her tears. A little while later she nodded towards her husband and took the stone from the table.

It didn't take long before –

"FRED!" Molly yelled. She dropped the pile she was holding, reaching out for him and trying to hug him. Luckily, his dad stopped her from doing so, otherwise things would've turned out pretty bad.

"MUM!" Fred yelled back, trying to ease the tension.

"Molly, get a hold of yourself, please!" His dad said, he was still firmly holding his mum, but his eyes were on Fred, as if he couldn't believe what he saw. "You – you haven't changed a thing!"

"Yeah, found the Fountain of Fair Youth about twenty years ago." Fred joked.

"The Fountain of Fair _Fortune_." His mum corrected him through her tears, she had always found it annoying when people got their facts wrong, especially when it came to fairy tales.

"Same thing." Fred shrugged.

"It is _so _good to see you, Fred! I am so sorry for ever being mad at you. You and George were wonderful inventors and you did a great job, even though most of it happened behind my back. And even if you tried some of that stuff on first years at Hogwarts, I don't care and I forgive you, because you never deserved this! And George hasn't ever been the same since you left, neither have we. If only we could turn back time and get you back then I'd repay you for everything you've done to us and..." His mum's voice broke and the waterworks started again.

To be honest, Fred would've given _everything_ to exchange this sad devastated rant for one of the usual angry ones. He couldn't stand seeing his mum like this.

"Shush, Molly!" Arthur had hugged his wife again, still holding her hand and the stone in a firm grip. "I'm sorry, son."

"That's OK." Fred looked down, trying not to show how sad this actually made him. Something colourful on the floor caught his attention. It was the pile of fabric his mum had dropped. "What _is_ that?"

His mum quickly got down to the floor and picked the pile up. She took a red piece of fabric and held it up, there was a large 'F' in the middle. "It's sweaters," she cried, "f-for you, Fred. I made one every Christmas. I just c-couldn't bear making o-one only for G-george..." She dried her eyes on the red sweater and gave the pile of sweaters to Arthur, who was holding out his hands to take them.

This affected Fred greatly. Although he never really liked his mother's knitted works (not as much as Ron had hated them though, he always got the maroon ones), he saw this as a real prove that he hadn't been forgotten all those years. Sure, he had seen George's face when they talked about the past 19 years, he knew people had missed him and had reminisced him often enough, but to actually _see _that love, even in a simple thing as a sweater, meant the world to him. And he would've done everything to be able to put one of those sweaters on at that very moment.

"The thing your mum is trying to say," his dad said, "is that we missed you dearly. Life hasn't been the same without you and we would do anything to get you back with us. That's why we're so grateful for this opportunity, even if it just is to say goodbye." Fred had never heard his father talk this way, broken, sad.

"I understand, dad, I miss you two."

"The problem is, there were so many things we'd like to say to you, but right now I can't think of any." Arthur was fiddling with something in his hands.

"That's OK, I really understand." Fred tried to examine the thing in his dad's hands. It seemed to be some kind of white muggle device with a big black screen and one button on the bottom. "What _is _that?" He asked, pointing to the unfamiliar thing.

"Ooh, it's amazing!" His dad said suddenly, sounding a whole lot less sad. He waved the tiny device through the air in excitement. "And y'know what they call it? An Apple!"

Fred snorted, his dad hadn't changed a thing.

"Oh and this one," he plucked another device from his coat, this one was black and had loads of keys on it, with a slightly smaller screen. "They call this one a Blackberry! Can you believe it? Those muggles... Can't tell a piece of fruit from a fellytone, can they?"

"Arthur, please!" Molly said, annoyed.

"C'mon Molly! We might as well have a bit of fun, that's what Fred likes the most, doesn't he? Don't you?" He looked at Fred.

"Yes, of course I do! Better say goodbye with tears of happiness than with tears of sadness, right?"

His mum smiled slightly and nodded. "Maybe you're right."

"Now that's a first." Fred remarked. He looked at his parents, who were holding hands and had an arm around one another. They'll be allright, he thought, they'll get through, together. They could handle the world without him and now he sensed it was time to say goodbye.

Obviously his dad had sensed it too, for he straightened up suddenly, clearing his throat. "Fred, my boy." He started. "We'll miss you, we think of you every day. We'll even pull some pranks in your name, deal?"

"Deal!" Fred agreed eagerly. And though he wasn't sure what was going to happen with him in a few days, though he wasn't sure if what he was about to say was the truth, he still said it. "And we'll see each other again one day. I promise."

His dad nodded one last time, a smile on his face.

His mum's lip trembled as she muttered "Goodbye, Freddie.", she shut her eyes and let go of the stone, before breaking into tears again. Arthur put the stone back on the little side table and lead Molly out of the room.

However, before walking out, Fred's mum turned around. She had a smile plastered on her face, a honest happy smile, in spite of her tears.

"I'll keep smiling, Freddie. I'll keep smiling for you."

Then she turned again and walked away.

What seemed like only a second later – Fred had needed some time to get himself together again – Angelina walked in. Fred hadn't really expected her, to be honest, but on the other side, Hermione and Harry had come to say goodbye and he had been closer to Angelina than to them when he had been alive.

Angelina didn't hesitated and took the stone in her hands straight away, being familiar with the way it worked.

"Well, so you decided to come say goodbye as well?" Fred mocked.

"What did you think, that I'd just leave you without a farewell? I thought you knew me better than that."

"Farewell, what a strong word."

"It's the truth though."

They both stayed silent for a while.

Angelina sighed. "I'm not gonna stay long. Your family deserves this goodbye more than I do."

"Do they? It's not like you're any less." Fred shrugged.

"To you I am."

"Are not."

"Am too." Angelina argued.

"Don't you remember the Yule Ball?" Fred said, eying the floor.

"Of course I do," Angelina said, confused, "What does that have anything to do with this?"

"Well, I really liked you back then." Fred turned slightly red. "You were an amazing person, still are. Take good care of George, will you? You're the best thing he has. Really, the best thing. Not that it matters..."

Angelina grinned. "What are you trying to say?"

"Uhmm... This might be slightly inappropriate since I'm dead and my brother is your husband and all... But I love you."

Smiling, Angelina faced him. "You're amazing, you know. Of course I'll take care of George. I love him. And I'll try to give him everything he deserves. You just be happy with wherever you're going. We won't ever forget you." Angelina made her way back to the table, but before letting go of the stone she looked at Fred one last time. "I love you too."

She quickly put the stone down and hurried out of the room.


	24. Chapter 24

24. When Guilt Tears You Apart

At least everyone was going to be OK, Fred thought. Harry and Hermione would manage easily, Bill had Fleur, Charlie had... Well... Whatever made him happy. His parents had one another, even his mum would laugh again, she'd promised that, and she wasn't one to break a promise like that.

He looked at the pile of sweaters his dad had left on something that looked like an old – ancient – cupboard which was lying on its side in a corner of the attic. All the different colours, all with a huge 'F' in the middle, one for every year he hadn't been there to unwrap them at Christmas eve. He wished he could take them with him, every single one of the sweaters. Of course he knew he couldn't, but even a half-dead boy could dream, right?

The next person to say their goodbyes took such a long time that Fred started to think they might not come at all, that they'd forgotten about him or something like that.

Since he had to wait anyway, and since he couldn't do much else for he was bound to the stone and couldn't really touch anything, he started singing.

Why? He had no clue. He felt so inexplicably happy about his current situation; everyone was going to be okay, he got to talk to all of them one last time and, even though he wasn't sure whether he'd see his friends and family ever again, he felt kind of glad about leaving. Leaving that awful, depressing feeling behind, that is.

He even managed to convince himself that this was for the better for everyone, including George. Being stuck with a vague image of his lost brother wouldn't help him any further in life. And yes, Fred called himself things like 'a vague image' by now, he'd be gone by sunset anyway – at least, that's what he thought – , better use his last hours to make a complete idiot of himself, right?

He sang 'A Cauldron Of Hot, Strong Love' from the top of his lungs, nobody could hear him anyway. The song, even though it was terrible, reminded him of home, of the Burrow. He missed his home, he wished he could've just gone there one more time. If only it was to de-gnome the garden or something silly like that, he just wanted to feel home again.

He suddenly remembered the old clock that had always been standing in the kitchen, the one that didn't tell you the time, but the place where every member of the Weasley family was at that particular moment. I wonder what place it says I am right now, Fred thought.

He stopped singing when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Glad that no one could've possibly heard him sing a Celestina Warbeck song, he watched the door to see who would come visit him next.

He was surprised when he saw that Percy shuffled into the room, his head bent down and his eyes on the floor.

Percy had changed a lot.

His hair wasn't as neatly combed and taken care of as it used to be. He didn't wear horn-rimmed glasses anymore, but a different, slightly smaller, spectacle frame. The real difference wasn't to see in his appearance, though. It was in the way he acted, the way he stood and walked. There was no sign whatsoever of his usual 'dignified matter', or, as he and George used to call it, his 'megalomania'.

No, Percy didn't look pompous in any way at that moment. He looked rather shy and sad, not watching where he was going as he was only staring at his own shoes.

Well, this was going to be an awkward talk.

Suddenly, Percy lifted his head and took a shaky breath. Still slightly crouched, he reached for the stone, looked at it for a second and then turned it around in his hand, not bothering to close his eyes.

He blinked a few times, his expression suddenly flabbergasted, so Fred reckoned he could see him now.

"Ey Perce, long time no see." He said flatly, not knowing exactly how to act around this new version of his brother.

Percy opened and closed his mouth a few times, still looking shocked. "F-Fred?" he managed to get out.

Fred nodded. Trying to make some proper conversation and make the whole situation a bit less awkward, he started rattling. "Yup, it's me. And I can assure you it's me and not George because I don't have that mole that he has on his – "

"NO!"

"Wait, wha-" Fred started, not knowing what happened since everything went really quickly. Percy had screamed and thrown the stone across the room with a grunt. Now he was walking to and fro through the room, nearly pulling his own hair out while yelling even more. "MY FAULT... DON'T DESERVE... SHOULD'VE BEEN ME... ALL MY FAULT."

Fred, who didn't have a clue what was going on, tried to sooth him, telling him to calm down and take it easy. Of course he realised soon there was no point in doing so; Percy couldn't hear him, since the stone now lay somewhere on the other side of the attic, lost in the major pile of useless stuff. The idiot, why had he thrown it away? Now Fred was _really_ stuck, the stone as good as gone and his older brother raging in front of him.

Percy kept shouting and now started to throw other things across the room.

CRASH. He had tossed an old chair against the only bare wall, where the entrance was. The chair immediately broke to pieces, useless bits of wood flying everywhere.

Then came a dusty vase, which hit a mirror on the wall, smashing them both. A dirty cauldron, one of the broomsticks, the little side table. Percy slowly turned the attic to a complete mess, worse than it had been before.

"MY FAULT! … WHY? … BROTHER..."

Desperate to do something, _anything_, Fred made his way towards Percy and waved his hands in front of him, trying to get his attention. He hated seeing Percy like this, it was just wrong. Percy wasn't aggressive, he was calm and serious and annoying. The worst thing was that Fred knew Percy behaved like this because of _him_.

Fred even tried to grab Percy's wrist to stop him. Naturally, he couldn't, his hand went right through Percy's arm. However, Percy calmed down a little, raising his head and searching the room. He had unconsciously grabbed his wrist with his other hand, tears of anger streamed down his face.

He didn't yell anymore, he just muttered to himself, his voice raw. He sank to the ground, sobbing, his face hidden in his arms.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." he kept saying.

If he hadn't been in this creepy ghost-like state, where nobody could hear him or touch him, he would've just cracked a joke, he would've looked at George and they would've started laughing.

But George wasn't there. He had to do this alone.

The only problem being that there was nothing he _could_ do.

Then he heard another pair of footsteps on the stairs that led to the attic. _Yes_, Fred thought, finally! The footsteps were hurried and light, Fred didn't even have to see a face to realise who this was. He had heard those footsteps dozen of times back at the Burrow, all those years ago.

Ginny rushed into the room and looked around. "What – _is_ – going – on – here?" she panted. As soon as she saw Percy's sad figure on the ground, an expression of understanding appeared on her face and, stepping over a few broken chair legs, she walked towards her brother and sat down next to him.

"Shhh. It's ok, Perce. It's ok."

"NO!" Percy bursted. "It's NOT!"

Ginny stroked his back, not saying anything, waiting for Percy to continue.

"It's NOT ok! It's my fault, it's all my fault. If I hadn't been there, if I hadn't tried to be so _bloody funny_, Fred wouldn't have been distracted and he would've still been... would've still been ALIVE!" He nearly screamed this last word, pulling his hair again.

"Come on, Perce." Ginny soothed. "You know that's not true. It was the fault of whoever caused that explosion. There's nothing you possibly could've done." Her voice trembled.

Fred swallowed. He had always tried to make people laugh, he had practically made that his life mission, yet now he just made everyone sad, the only thing they had to do was think about him and BOOM. Waterworks. That wasn't how it was supposed to end.

"What would Fred think if he saw you this way?" Ginny asked, not with blame, but with compassion.

"Erhm... I _did_ see him." Fred muttered, tired of being ignored.

"But he _did_ see me!" Percy cried. When Ginny threw a quizzical look at him, he continued. "I felt him, his presence. I think he tried to grab my wrist. It felt as if Sir Nicholas touched me, or one of the other ghosts. Only I didn't see anyone." His voice trailed off and he had grabbed his wrist again.

Ginny looked at the side table, which was now on its side, one of its legs crooked. "Where's the stone?"

Percy pointed at the mess, in the direction he threw the stone.

"_You threw it away_?" When Percy nodded, Ginny just sighed. "Idiot. Now, help me look for it, will you?"

"No." Percy prompted. "I don't deserve to see him. You look for the stone." And with those words he got to his feet and went for the door.

"No, you won't!" Ginny protested, blocking his way. "You _will _see Fred tonight and you _will _talk to him. Otherwise you'll regret it. He _wants_ to talk to you, I'm sure of that!"

_Do I_? Fred thought. He wanted to talk to his brother, sure, he didn't want him to feel this way, because it surely wasn't Percy's fault that he was dead... But to face him while he was such a mess, he didn't want to remember Percy like that. He never thought he'd say this, but he'd rather see him with his 'megalomania' and his Prefect-badge on his chest.

Ginny was now searching a pile of empty cauldrons for the stone. Percy remained where he was, by the door, perfecty still, with his hand stretched out towards the doorknob. His eyes were closed and a tear trickled down his cheek and on his shirt.

CLANG.

"Oh _no_!" Ginny yelled, jumping aside quickly to avoid the falling pile of cauldrons. "We _really_ need to start cleaning up some time! Kreacher will never be able to handle this on his own, poor thing." She shoved the cauldrons aside, making scratches on the floor. "Why do we even have all these – " Falling silent, she watched the floor. The tiny black stone had appeared out of nowhere when she had moved the messy cauldrons. Ginny held her breath as she reached for the stone, carefully taking it in her hand and examining it. She threw a look at Percy, who watched her with an expressionless face.

"You ready?" she asked, but he shook his head vehemently.

"Oh come ON, Perce!" Fred grunted out of frustration. "_Please_ just be yourself and try to annoy me again like you used to!"

"Fred!" Ginny yelled, her eyes huge, eyeing him, obviously being able to see and hear him. "You – you haven't changed a thing!"

Fred rolled his eyes and couldn't help but grin. "Is that _everything_ everyone's got to say to me?"

Ginny shrugged. "It's true though."

He saw Percy's uncomprehending look and nodded towards him. "What about him?" he said, not knowing what to say about the situation.

Sighing, Ginny said, "Doesn't think he deserves to see you."

"I know, I know," Fred urged. "I heard everything. But, as you said, I _have_ to talk to him."

Ginny looked slightly surprised. "You did? I thought Percy was just seeing things, saying you grabbed his arm and all..."

"I did. Though I didn't expect him to actually _feel_ it." Fred was wondering how Ginny could be so calm, considering she'd freaked out completely when she'd merely heard about Fred and the stone. What had changed in the meantime?

Ginny nodded, looking at Percy once again. Percy still hadn't moved, his eyes fixed on Ginny. "Perce... He needs to see you. He just said so himself." Fred nodded, which added nothing to Ginny's remark whatsoever, but at least made him feel like he did something useful.

"C'mon Percy." Ginny watched him with sad eyes. "Please?"

But Percy didn't do anything.

"Tell him that if he won't take a hold of that bloody stone, I'll change his Head Boy badge into something far worse than 'Bighead Boy'."

Ginny chuckled while she told Percy exactly what Fred'd said, even Percy cracked a slight smile, although the sadness in his eyes remained. Ginny held out the hand in which she was holding the stone, not saying another word, and, to both her and Fred's surprise, Percy took it. He shut his eyes and squeezed Ginny's hand. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." Ginny said, squeezing back. "Now open your eyes." She looked at Fred and gave him a reassuring smile. Fred just beamed, slightly proud of how his words had convinced Percy so easily. It was funny, really, how Percy reacted to him right now. Had it been nineteen years earlier, Percy had merely frowned at practically everything he and George said.

Percy slowly opened his eyes.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Fred said, grinning. "Hi Perce!"

Percy began crying again. Well, Fred thought, at least he didn't yell and throw stuff across the attic this time. We're making progress.

"F-fred! I'm so so so sorry!" Percy sobbed. "It was all my fault and I should never have said all those things I said! I was so stupid!"

Fred grimaced, remembering the times before the Second War, when Percy had neglected his family to work for the – corrupted – Ministry of Magic. "Yes. Stupid you were." Fred said calmly. "But it wasn't your fault, what happened to me."

"It was! If I hadn't tried to be funny..."

"I would've died without a smile on my face." Fred stated sadly.

Percy fell silent, he didn't even sob anymore. Ginny looked from Fred to Percy and back, her face sad and her cheeks slightly red, as if she was trying to hold back her tears.

"That's nonsense." Percy said eventually.

"It's my nonsense." Fred said. "Therefore it's true nonsense, thank you very much." Percy smiled. "And it _was _funny, what you said." Fred added.

"I can't believe it took me that long to realise how wrong the Ministry was..." Percy's voice sounded troubled.

"At least you realised your own stupidity in the end." George said. "And that's what matters. Mum had her son back."

"And lost one, as well." Ginny added sadly.

Percy swallowed. "It's not fair. It should've been me. I deserved it after what I did."

"Now _that's_ nonsense." Fred said. "You don't deserve to _die_."

"But you were so young..."

"Old enough to die, apparently." Fred laughed. "And I'm fine, really. I'm still here, aren't I?" He turned around as if showing himself off, chest out, just like Percy used to do whenever he was wearing his dear badge.

"Ouch, PERCY!" Ginny said suddenly. "My hand will die away if you squeeze it any harder!"

"Sorry." Percy murmured, but Fred laughed, he looked like a little kid holding his mum's hand.

"Do me a favour, Perce, will you?" Fred asked. When Percy nodded, he continued. "Please be your old cocky self and annoy George as much as possible, will you?"

"I'm not cocky!" Percy said.

Ginny threw him an unconvinced look. "Oh really?"

"Okay, maybe I was. Only a bit." Percy corrected himself. He saw Fred's amused look. "Oh shut up you!"

"I didn't even say anything!" Fred laughed.

Percy laughed as well, which still was an unusual sight to Fred.

"Will I see you again, though?" Percy asked.

Fred used the same semi-truth he had told Charlie and Bill. "Of course! But not too soon, okay?"

Percy nodded. "Thanks, for everything, Fred. And sorry for everything I ever did to you."

"Don't say sorry, you're not you when you're not annoying us! And don't blame yourself for what happened to me. It really wasn't your fault. It could've happened to anyone, I was just the one with bad luck that day."

Percy nodded again, though not as convincing as before. "There's nothing I can change about it now, can I?"

"You might as well accept it." Fred agreed.

Percy smiled. "Thank you. And there was no way in jinxing my badge, anyway. It still says Bighead Boy and it hangs on the wall, next to the picture of our family in Egypt. I never changed it back."

"You're not kidding me!" Fred said, surprised. "You're actually way cooler than I thought, Perce!"

"Now, don't exaggerate it." Percy said, a bit of his old pride had returned. "Though I think it's about time to go now. I'll leave you alone with Ginny. I can't thank you enough for what you've do– "

"Wait a minute," Ginny interrupted him. "That's all? We've been telling you the same thing for nineteen years! About it not being your fault and all... And now it's all good all of a sudden?"

"My voice is magic, dear Gin." Fred stated pompously.

Percy laughed. "What he said."

"Now, dear Perce." Fred said seriously, mimicking Percy's dignified manner. "It was absolutely _excellent_ to have this conversation with you. And naturally, it was a real pleasure."

Percy laughed and let go of Ginny's hand and the stone. "I don't talk like that!"

"Of course you don't." Fred said, mockingly. Percy left the room, a smile on his face.

Fred turned to Ginny, who was still holding the stone, still slightly surprised about Percy's sudden change.

"He's a mystery to me, that is." Ginny said, slowly shaking her head.

"He's Percy, what did you expect?" Fred replied, shrugging. He remembered his thoughts about Ginny and _her_ sudden change in attitude and couldn't help but ask. "Why? You were so confused and didn't want to see me back then, at George's house... And now you're basically Percy's older sister... How?"

Ginny grinned. "Ah well, motherly instinct, I suspect? Can't let yourself break down when there are people who need your help."

Fred suddenly felt a lot of respect for Ginny, and not only for the incredible Bat-Bogey Hex she could preform. Ginny had really grown up, she wasn't his little sister anymore.

"Percy isn't like this all the time, by the way. He's his usual self on most occasions. Telling stories about the Ministry and about his time at Hogwarts in a tone like he's the Queen of England."

"Queen of – ?" Fred asked, but Ginny interrupted him immediately.

"Yeah, don't ask. Harry and Hermione have been introducing us to the muggle world over the years. I even know who Rumplestiltskin is by now! Kind of funny, because we're not supposed to know his name... Oh, and Ron is like _obsessed_ with this Sherlock Holmes guy, says he's even better than _Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_."

"Uhmm... Right. How's Arnold, anyway?" Fred asked, matter-of-factly, trying to stick to subjects he could understand.

"Who? Oh, Arnold!" Ginny laughed. "My little pygmy-puff... He died a long time ago. Or well, I think he did."

"You _think_ he did?" Fred was quite curious about this, since he and George had invented those creatures and he never got to see how long they would last.

"Yeah, well, one day he just stopped working, I guess." She shrugged. "Didn't move anymore, he was just a stuffed toy all of a sudden. It's still on my bed stand, actually." She smiled and then added in a whisper, "Since it reminded me of you."

"A dead animal reminding you of me? I feel flattered." Fred laughed.

"You should, he was awesome. Though the second one I had was better than Arnold, to be honest. I gave one to Lily a few years ago, we called it Kevin."

"Kevin? Was that all you could think of?"

"Of course you'd have liked it better if we'd called it Fred, wouldn't you?" Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"Exactly! Fred... Such a wonderful name!"

They both laughed.

"Thanks for teaching me to laugh, Fred." Ginny said suddenly, sounding extremely serious and looking at her feet. "You taught me nothing is impossible, as long as you have enough nerve. And I love you."

Fred smiled, saying goodbye to Ginny seemed so hard compared to the others. "I love you too, little sis. Don't forget about me, will you?"

"Never." she said simply. She smiled once more before putting the stone down in front of Fred's feet and walking away. "I wouldn't be able to ever forget you, even if I wanted to." she said before closing the door behind her.

Fred held his breath for a moment. Damn, this goodbye-thing was much harder than he thought it would be. Saying his 'last words' to everyone he once had been close to was slowly killing him inside, irony intended. At least the others seemed to be better off with these goodbyes, everyone had left this room smiling, sort of. And, ticking off names on an imaginary list of people who'd visit him, he realised there were only a few more goodbyes to be said. Two, to be exact.

At that exact moment the door opened and Ron stepped in. He had a little note clenched in his hand and sighed as he saw the room. "Bloody hell, Harry, this is worse than our Gryffindor dormitory..." Shaking his head, he suddenly noticed the little black stone on the floor and, with a questioning look on his face – Oh Ron, you look so intelligent when you do that, Fred thought, snorting –, picked it up.

Holding the stone in his hand, he looked at Fred. Just looked.

"Ehm... Hi Ickle Ronniekins?" Fred tried

"Fred! I – I don't know what to say..." Ron said, his expression vacant.

Fred pointed at the note in his hand. "You could start to explain what _that_ is. And please don't say a thing about me not having changed at all, I know that by now."

Ron looked at the note in his hand as if he saw it for the first time in his life. "Oh, right." He unfolded it and his eyes flew across the lines written on it. "Hermione's idea. She told me this would happen, me not being able to say anything that makes sense. Told me to write down what I wanted to say. Smart of her, really."

"I bet so." Fred said, wrinkling his eyebrows.

"Wha– Ah well, never mind. Here I go." Ron said, straightening the little paper before clearing his throat and starting to read it out. "Dear Fred." He sighed. "I miss you. I know it sounds silly and you're probably laughing at me right now for saying so, but I really do. You were always there to cheer us up when we felt down, always there to make a fool of us whenever we did something wrong. You scarred me for life when you changed my teddybear into a giant spider, you made me nearly choke on my food whenever you joked about Percy during dinner, you mocked me when I became a Prefect, you made mum yell at you like she never did at anyone else, except maybe Mundungus, you made life so much better with your joke shop when times were dark. In short, you made us laugh when no one else could.

But still, when we needed you the most, when we needed a joke or a nasty prank to cheer us up... You weren't there." Ron remained silent for a moment, looking at Fred. Fred didn't laugh at all, he listened to Ron's story with an intense look on his face, impressed by Ron's new abilities to get his feelings onto paper.

"Anyway," Ron continued. "When you were gone, we weren't a family anymore. Mum was broken, Percy blamed himself, George didn't laugh... Without you we weren't the same."

Fred felt terrible. Again, he never wanted anyone to feel this way because of him.

"Without you we were broken. But slowly, although there were huge pieces missing, we repaired ourselves. We grew up, keeping you in our memory, remembering your smile, remembering your annoying pranks and your random apparating. And we managed. And I realised, as I was covered in white feathers and sticky stuff – a prank I strongly suspect _you_ were involved with lately – , that we _could_ laugh, because you taught us to do so. And that's what I want to remember about you, because that's the best thing a person can do for someone else; teaching them to be happy." Ron finished his monologue, sighed once more and folded the paper again, putting it in his pocket.

Fred found it hard to talk, a lump had appeared in his throat. "Did that all fit on that tiny piece of paper?"

Ron lauged. "You'd be surprised."

"Thanks for saying that, little brother." Fred managed to say.

"Now I'm going to go quickly, or I'll cry my eyes out in front of you and you'll have something else to make fun of." Ron chuckled.

Fred chuckled along with him. "I'd have enough material to make fun of you without you crying, don't you worry about that."

"As always."

"Thanks for taking care of the shop, by the way."

Ron shrugged. "It was nothing, it wasn't the same with me as it was with you."

Fred smiled.

"So... I'll go now. I'll see you again soon, right?"

"Right you will." Fred answered, nodding and trying to smile.

Ron left the room.

Fred felt empty by now, though he realised the worst goodbye was yet to come. How could he possibly ever say goodbye to his partner in crime?


	25. Chapter 25

25. The Wishing Well

Had Percy taken a long time to get upstairs, George was much worse. It felt like Fred had been waiting for hours... Though it just as well could've been only a few minutes. But then, at long last, the door opened, and Fred's final visitor appeared.

George looked unexpectedly well, considering the situation. Compared to Percy he looked like an incredibly happy sun celebrating the world's mere existence.

Though that might be a bit exaggerated.

George didn't hesitate at all and, with a smile on his face, picked up the stone. It barely took a second for him to look straight at Fred. "Well, hello again!" he said. His voice betrayed him, it sounded joyous, but fake. It was a mask, Fred thought, a mask of happiness to conceal the pain underneath. Fred felt a little ashamed not to have noticed that earlier. When he had still been alive, he had been able to tell what George was thinking at almost all times.

A lot had changed indeed.

"Hi." Fred said, not knowing exactly what else to say. This was the last time they would ever talk, after all. What do you say to someone who's practically _you_ when you have to say farewell? "Are you doing well?"

George nodded, though he didn't reply. Something stirred in his face and the mask of happiness dropped slowly.

"I know," Fred said, searching for words, something he'd never had to do before while he was talking to his twin, "I … I don't want to say goodbye either."

George looked up to him, watching him carefully. "But you'll have to go anyway. You can't stay, otherwise – "

"The second brother, the fading ghost of his lover, I know, I know. I'll just slowly drown in my own unhappiness because I don't belong in this world and all." Fred sighed. "I felt it, the depression. It's terrible, and I don't want to feel like that ever again, like I don't belong... But that doesn't mean I wouldn't stay if I could."

George didn't look at him, he seemed to take in the room for the first time. Then, so quietly that Fred was doubting whether he'd actually heard him say it, he mumbled. "I know. I'll miss you."

There was an uncomfortable silence, one that had never appeared between the brothers before, not even when they'd heard their dad had been attacked by a giant snake and he was on the edge of dying.

"Anyway," George said, his voice almost back to usual again. "We might as well make the best out of the time we've got, right?"

Fred nodded, cracking a smile. "So... Those omniscience hats are a real laugh, aren't they?" He knew it was a stupid subject to talk about at that moment, but he felt like everything would do right now. As long as they started talking

"Yeah..." George hesitated. "Yes, you did a pretty great job on them."

"We did." Fred corrected him.

"But you came up with the idea." George argued, a slight smile appearing on his face.

"Yeah, but since I can't even hold a wand right now... You made 'em."

George opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. "That – that... Is a good point." He admitted finally.

"Of course it is. I said it." Fred couldn't keep a grin off his face.

"Oooh, your modesty is admirable."

"It's a gift." Fred nodded, now really laughing. George laughed along with him and he was glad. This was the way it was supposed to be. If there had to be a goodbye, they'd do it with a smile on their face.

However, Fred realised he had to ask a few things before leaving, a few things he was eager to know.

"George?" Fred asked, suddenly remembering his earlier thoughts. "You remember the clock, at home?"

George nodded. "'fcourse."

"Well," Fred swallowed. "Where does my clock-hand point to, now?" He looked at George carefully.

George didn't answer straight away, he bit his lip as if he was thinking hard. Not about the answer, obviously, but about whether or not to tell Fred. "Lost." he said finally.

"What?"

"The clock-hand. It pointed at 'lost'."

"_Pointed_?" Fred asked, having noticed the fact that George had used past time.

George shrugged. "Yeah, well... It was kind of depressing, you see," Fred nodded. "So I didn't look at it after that one time, about a week after you... after you..."

"Got lost." Fred helped him out.

"Exactly."

Fred could see the pain in his brother's eyes and knew now more than ever that this was going to be the hardest thing he was ever going to do. He took some time to think about how things would have been had the roles been reversed. Fred would be dying inside, he knew that. And he also knew that George felt that way right now.

At least Fred himself went on, to a new place, where – that's what he hoped – he'd be at peace, never to worry about anything ever again. George, however, had to live on. Without his brother. Again.

"You _were_ lost, weren't you?" George asked suddenly, his voice harsh.

Fred thought for a moment, then sniffed and grinned. "I haven't got the slightest idea. I don't remember a thing... Apart from a few 'flashes' of Hogwarts, and your kids, apparently, as I told you before."

"That's right!" George smirked. "Fred Junior making mischief, Fred Senior watching over him."

"'Fred Senior'?" Fred repeated. "You're joking! That makes me feel like I'm in my eighties or something!"

George laughed.

"What?"

"Well, saying you were in your eighties..." George explained. "Would you have the same beard as we got when we tried to put our names in the – "

"The Goblet of fire!" Fred interrupted him, finishing his sentence. "I don't know, I sure hope not, we looked incredibly ridiculous back then."

"Definitely." George agreed.

At least he was able to say he'd seen himself grow old – Sort of. At least they'd still looked alike back then, Fred thought. Nobody had been able to tell them apart, not even their own mum, though that was mostly because Fred and George confused her themselves. _'He's not Fred, I am!' 'Honestly woman, you call yourself a mother?'_

Not to forget the times their best friend Lee (Yes, Fred remembered him clearly again now) had mixed them up during Quidditch matches, where Lee often did the commentating. '_Nice bludger from Fred Weasley! I mean, George Weasley. Oh, who cares, one of them._'

Even Ron had once doubted whether it was George or Fred who'd he seen putting a Dancing Feet Spell on one of the toads in the Transfiguration class room. It had been George, of course. Fred himself was quite busy at that time, jinxing the feathers professor Flitwick used while teaching the first-years the Hover Charm, which turned out to be quite hilarious.

Ron hadn't warned mum, of course. Another Howler in the Weasley family wouldn't have been something to be extremely proud of.

Ron, Fred thought, his little brother with the note...

"Oh, can you do something for me?" Fred asked. "Can you take Ron's little note, write 'Little Ickle Ronniekins is getting emotional!' underneath it and tell him to frame it and hang it in his living room?"

"What?"

"Nothing, just do it, it's the last time I'll be able to make fun of him."

George raised an eyebrow. "Sure, whatever you please. If it involves making fun of Ronniekins I'm all in!"

Fred wanted to reply by saying something funny, but before he could, the room around him seemed to blur. "W-what is going on?" he asked, a bit of panic showing in his voice.

"What do y– "

But George's words became inaudible, as the room, along with all the noise in it, disappeared. Fred flew, through colours and sound, it felt a bit like apparating, including the nauseous feeling you got when you apparated for the first time. Fred didn't like it at all. Had this been it, then? His goodbye? His _end_? That couldn't be, he wasn't ready yet, he hadn't even had the chance to say a proper farewell!

But just when he had convinced himself he would never see this world again, the colours seemed to blend in within one another, creating shapes and contours and silhouettes. And slowly, really slowly, Fred could distinguish a bed. A lot of beds. And... Trunks? The room around him became clearer and soon he realised he was in a Gryffindor dormitory, though not the one he used to have back at Hogwarts.

There was nobody else present. It was quite tidy, only one bed lay full of clothes, dresses, skirts, and something that looked a bit like a tent. There were bits of make up on one of the bedside tables and that was all Fred needed to realise he was in a girl dormitory.

A _girl_ dormitory at Hogwarts? What on earth was he doing here?

Just as he was trying to figure out what had happened, the door to the dormitory opened and two little _male_ third-years shuffled in, carefully checking the room for people.

"Of course, I should've known!" Fred laughed, understanding. Hermione might just have been right with her theory: George had told him that Angelina had heard from Hermione that she thought Fred appeared on the Marauder's Map whenever someone was causing mischief, that that was why James and Fred II had seen him while pulling that prank in the Kitchens.

Fred watched the two as they beamed at one another. They were definitely 'up to no good'.

"That was actually quite easy!" Little Fred whispered, still looking around as if he was expecting a teacher to jump out from behind one of the beds at any moment.

"Definitely!" James laughed, who didn't even try to keep his voice down.

"Shhhh!" whispered Fred.

"Ah, no worries! There's no one here, everyone's still at dinner, anyway."

"Yeah, and they're right. I would kill for another one of those – "

"Yes, everyone knows you're hungry, Fred. The common room almost trembled when your stomach growled. It was like a wild animal held captured for years..." James said, rubbing a hand over his own stomach. "Better get this over with, then." He took something out of his pocket and walked to one of the beds. "Now, do you think this one's hers?"

Fred Junior looked at it for a second and then shook his head. "No, it's that one!" He pointed at the bed on its right, which was extremely tidy. There was a book named '_Hogwarts, a history_' on her bedside table. "Obviously."

James nodded and put the things he had in his hands – which Fred now recognised as dungbombs – underneath the covers. "She so deserves this." he said and Fred nodded.

Fred II took out his wand and used it to straighten the covers again. James looked at him and sighed. "What?" Little Fred said. "Otherwise she'll notice!"

James shrugged and laughed, then they left the room again.

"I'm so glad your dad taught you how to get into the girl's dormitory, by the way!" James voice sounded.

Right after that Fred's vision blurred again, leaving him with that awful feeling of being sick again. A moment later he was back in the attic, George stood in front of him, the stone clenched in his hands and his eyes huge with fear.

"FRED!" He nearly yelled as he saw him. "I thought – I thought you were gone! What... What happened?"

Fred shrugged and rubbed his temple with his hand, he had a headache from this sudden sort of travelling. "It was your dear son. He and James put dungbombs in a girl's bed. James says thanks for showing them how to get in there."

George raised an eyebrow, relieve and amusement to be seen on his face clearly. "Of course... Those two just can't help it, can they?"

"He's your kid, what did you expect?" Fred replied, smirking. "I can't believe they put dungbombs in her bed though, whoever she was. They could've done so much better than that!"

"I know right? I'm even a little disappointed!" George said, casually playing with the Resurrection stone between his fingers, having relaxed again now his brother had returned. "I'll teach them better once this term ends and they get back home."

"You'd better!" Fred laughed.

George's face fell again. "Too bad you won't be there to teach them."

"Don't say that!" Fred said, afraid he'd be saying goodbye to his brother without a laugh after all. "I won't be _really_ gone."

"What'd you mean?"

"Well, we'll see each other again, I hope, and you're going to have a great life with Angelina and Roxanne and Fred and everyone else. And I'll be with you the entire time. Somehow."

"No need to say goodbye?" George asked, unconvinced.

"No need whatsoever." Fred said. "But I'm going to do it anyway."

"You're sure you won't get hurt or anything, right?" George said, looking down at his shoes. "I mean, you won't stay here, stuck forever without anyone being able to see you or something like that, right?"

George's concern didn't exactly make things easier for Fred, yet he was touched nonetheless.

_Maybe it is really time to go now, at last_.

The very moment Fred had thought this, three figures appeared next to him, like ghosts, like himself, in some way. They talked to him, and Fred couldn't believe his eyes... He wasn't alone.

"Nah," Fred said, eying the people around him but talking to George. "I'll be OK. There are three weird-looking wizards here, telling me they're looking for a fourth member. They call themselves Moony, Padfoot and Prongs… Sound familiar?"

"Definitely." George smirked, obviously not being able to see the Marauders. "You shouldn't let them call you Wormtail though. Maybe Rodent is a more fitting nickname."

"_Rapier_!" Fred replied automatically, laughing. The three makers of the Marauder's Map beamed at him, but didn't say anything. He recognized them, Lupin, Sirius... And someone who looked an awful lot like Harry, but not quite. That must be his dad, James, Fred thought. He wasn't really surprised to see them standing there, he had always imagined Sirius doing extremely irresponsible things during his years at Hogwarts, and since Lupin had been like his best friend – Well, this made sense somehow.

He beamed back at them, grateful he didn't have to do this on this own after all.

"It's time, Fred. You have to let go." Lupin said.

"You'll see him again," James Potter added, "you'll see all of them again."

"Just not too soon, hopefully!" Sirius laughed.

Fred laughed too, turning to George one more time.

"You're really gonna go now, aren't you?" George asked, his eyes teary.

Fred nodded. "But you'll be alright, won't you? Keep smiling, keep joking and learn those little prankers how to use these dung bombs properly!"

George grinned. "Will do."

"Well," Fred threw a look at the three men next to him again. "I'll go then, I think."

"I love you, Fred."

Fred smiled sadly. "I love you too, George, in a totally not creepy way, I mean." George laughed and Fred felt this was the time. "I might as well say goodbye in a suitable way." He took a deep breath. "Mischief managed!"

George nodded one more time, murmured a goodbye and let go of the stone, a smile on his face.

Unlike the other times, Fred didn't stay in the attic, bound to the stone. He seemed to be bound to the Marauders now, they were the only thing he could clearly see, as everything else around him was blurred, disappearing slightly.

"Where are we going?" Fred asked.

"Home." All three of them answered at once, smiling at him reassuringly.

Holding the bag in which he'd put the Resurrection Stone tightly in his hands, George went downstairs again. He didn't think Fred was still in the room, able to see him, but he kept muttering 'goodbye Fred' under his breath anyway.

He felt numb, he had laughed when Fred had said his goodbyes, and he had meant it, but now that his partner in crime was really gone... He just didn't know what to do anymore.

At least he had gotten a proper goodbye this time, instead of having Fred torn away from him like 19 years ago.

Once he got downstairs, a dozen faces turned to him, looking from his eyes to the bag in his hands and back. Angelina, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Harry, Percy, Bill, Charlie, his mum, his dad... They were all there, waiting for him.

"He's gone." George whispered, his voice sounding terribly husky.

Angelina immediately walked towards him and hugged him. It took George a while to realise what was happening, but then he hugged her back. His mum was crying silent tears, his dad held her and rubbed her back. Ron stood in-between Harry and Hermione, they didn't speak. Ginny, Percy, Bill and Charlie made their way to George and hugged him too. They stood there for a while, some crying, some comforting the others, some saying nothing at all.

"Let's go then." Hermione said after a few minutes, her voice shaking. They had agreed to put the stone away, on a place where no one would ever find it again. It was too much of a curse to leave it lying around. George didn't know where they would hide the stone, but he expected the others to know it, so he decided just to follow them.

All of them went outside and followed Hermione, who wandered into the forest without looking back. Ron hurried past them and grabbed Hermione's hand, walking next to her. It looked like some kind of funeral march, George thought. It would've been funny, had Fred been there to joke about it.

George looked at the bag in his hands. It felt so heavy, like there was a brick in there instead of a tiny stone. He wondered, if he took the stone again, would Fred appear again? Maybe he hadn't said everything he wanted to say after all. Maybe he needed to talk to him one more time.

But George realised he couldn't. Fred had been right. It wasn't natural, what they had been doing. It wasn't good. And this was the best way to put a stop to it.

After walking for about ten minutes, they reached a little well. Hermione made her way to stand next to it and then she turned around, blushing slighty. "Luna told me the muggles think this is a Wishing Well. And well... I thought it might be suitable."

George raised an eyebrow. "A muggle Wishing Well? You want to throw Fred into a muggle Wishing Well?"

"Luna said the muggles might be right. Maybe the Well does have some magical powers." Ron shrugged. "She was right about those invisible horses too, wasn't she?"

"Thestrals, Ron." Hermione sighed. "They're called _Thestrals_!"

George, however, wasn't convinced. "Luna? She isn't exactly... trustworthy, is she?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Ginny, who smiled reassuringly.

"What's life without believing in magic?" she said. "It would all be rather dull, wouldn't it? And someone once taught me _everything_ is possible."

George looked around at all of the people around him. His friends. His family. They had something to say in this, too. And none of them seemed to think the Well wasn't a good idea.

"Okay then." He walked towards Hermione and tried to hand her the bag.

"No no!" Hermione contradicted him. "You're going to do it yourself."

George looked at her, frozen. He didn't want to do this. Letting go of Fred in the attic had been so much easier, at least he'd still had the stone back then, he'd still have the opportunity to bring Fred back if necessary.

But if he threw the stone away...

Another hand on his shoulder, this time from Bill. "C'mon George, it's time now."

"I know." George said. "But that doesn't make it easier."

"We know it doesn't." Charlie said. "But you're not alone."

"You'll never be alone." Angelina smiled at him.

George nodded, lifted the bag till it was above the Well and then turned it around. The tiny black stone fell – as if in slow motion – out of the bag, into the Well.

It was a few meters down when the stone suddenly shone a bright blue, enlightening the entire Well. Only a second, then it was gone and they heard the stone drop in the water deep down.

A silence fell and George felt truly horrible.

"What was that light?" Ron asked after some time.

"I don't know," said Hermione, her voice shaking, "but I think Luna might not have been that wrong after all."

But George didn't care whether Luna had been right or wrong. He didn't care about anything at all at that moment.

He had let go of Fred. There was no way back right now. With the bright blue flash of the stone edged in his memory, he walked back. He didn't talk to anybody and no one tried to talk to him. They all understood that he needed some time alone.

_Alone_. What a terrible word.

_I'm going home, home to a place_

_A place I must go_

_A place you will go someday_

_I'm going there, where I'll be awake_

_Though my eyes are closed_

_I'm going home, I'm going home_

- Let's Lumos – One Last Goodbye


	26. Chapter 26

Epilogue

George felt free and powerful. Soaring through the sky, the wind blowing through his hair, he looked back to get a clearer view of the game he was in.

Quidditch.

It had been a long time since he'd felt this carefree. The only thing on his mind was to win the game, to knock some opponents – Slytherins, preferably – off their broom with a bludger. Now he didn't feel like really knocking them out, this was just a game for fun, of course. A _family_ game for fun.

A bludger rushed by and George hit it with his bat, sending it straight after the chaser who was so close to their 'goalpost', which was a single hula hoop about 22 feet up in the air, attached to nearby trees with a bit of rope. The chaser looked around, saw the bludger just in time and immediately ducked out of its way, letting go of the Quaffle in the process.

"DAD!" The chaser said, looking at George. "You nearly sent me to St. Mungo's with that _thing_."

"That _thing_ is part of Quidditch, you doof! Just _score_ already!" said Roxanne, who was just flying by, a bat – identical to the one George was holding – clenched in her hand.

"She's right, Fred." George laughed.

Little Fred shrugged. "Well... She should've been here with me to keep that bludger away."

Since term had officially ended the day before, they'd decided to celebrate the start of the holidays by playing a game of Quidditch with the family. They had to change the formation somewhat, so they played with two Chasers on each team instead of three and only one Beater. They may have quite an extended family, but finding fourteen decent Quidditch players who all had the time to play a game for fun was hard, even for them. One team consisted of Angelina and little Fred as Chasers, Roxanne as Beater, Harry as Seeker, naturally, and James as Keeper. The other one consisted of Ginny and Albus as Chasers, George himself as Beater, Charlie as Seeker and Ron as Keeper. Hermione, Rose, Hugo and Lily had taken some chairs out of the Burrow and had seated themselves in the shadow of the trees. Hugo and Hermione had decided to be the referees, leading to some hilarious arguments between the two, since Hermione didn't have a clue what was happening in the air half the time, not knowing a thing about Quidditch game rules. Lily was life-commenting the game, as if they had a real audience, and Rose was just watching the flying brooms, fascinated by them.

"GEORGE!" Hermione yelled. "That was a _foul_!"

"No it wasn't!" Hugo contradicted her. "Mum." He added quickly as he saw the threatening look on his mother's face.

"But he almost hit Fred in the face with that bludger!"

"That's what Beaters _do_, mum!"

"That's barbaric." Hermione said, her arms folded.

George grinned, nothing was funnier than watching Hermione when she realises she's not right for once.

Ginny and Albus were now making their way to the opposite goalpost, Albus had the Quaffle ("Potter has the Quaffle, GO ON, ALBUS!" commentated Lily enthusiastically) and his eyes were fixed on James, the only person left between himself and the goal.

"HE SCORES! ALBUS SCORES!"

George laughed as Albus and Ginny cheered and gave each other a high five, their team had scored! James, however, didn't look that pleased. He was muttering something to Fred, who flew towards him, shaking his head. Though George couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, he was pretty sure James was telling Fred he failed to stop the Quaffle from his little brother for a 'very good reason'. However, George knew, even though James wouldn't admit it, Albus was a very decent chaser, very decent indeed, better than most of them.

Sure, Ginny and Angelina were wonderful players, but since they weren't fifteen any more, they weren't nearly as quick and agile as they used to be. Same thing goes for George himself. He had already noticed little Fred's amazing moves and knew he was going to be an excellent Chaser.

Funny, wasn't it? George had always thought Fred Jr. was almost an exact copy of the other Fred, the Fred who was now gone, but yet little Fred didn't feel like being a Beater at all. Roxanne, on the contrary, loved it.

His thoughts were interrupted when George noticed a bunch of lights in all sorts of colours, somewhere on the ground nearby. Charlie and Harry had turned around instantly, clearly thinking they'd caught sight of the Snitch. But it wasn't the Snitch. It took George a few moments to realise the thing covered in red, blue, yellow, orange, green and purple lights was his dad.

"Hello everyone!" Arthur Weasley yelled happily. The game had practically stopped for a moment, Angelina had the Quaffle but held it loosely in her hands, looking at Arthur with a grin on her face. George's dad turned around as if to let everyone see the lights he was tangled in. "Look! It's muggle lights! And I made them work with my wand! Look at those colours!"

Harry smothered a laugh. "Er – Mr. Weasley? Those are Christmas lights."

"Oh really?" Arthur said. "Ingenious, isn't it?"

WHOOSH.

Charlie was gone.

WHOOSH.

Harry went after him.

George turned around to see what was happening and soon saw what he had expected: The two had caught sight of the _real_ Snitch. Everyone watched the two Seekers as they shot through the sky, chasing the little golden ball head to head.

In no time they heard a 'YES!'; Harry grasped the Snitch out of the air, triumphantly he held it up in the air. Charlie congratulated him on his great catch and Fred, James and Roxanne were doing a dance of joy in the air, singing "We won! We won! We won!".

Ron cursed as he descended.

"_Don't use bad words, daddy_!"

"Well said, Rose!" Hermione patted her daughter on the head.

"That's enough for today." Ginny announced. "Now, let's all get something to drink, shall we?"

Most of them ducked towards the ground and stepped off their brooms. Fred, however, stayed up in the air. "Dad? Can we please just fly a little more for a little while? As a cool-down?" Fred asked, finally having stopped the victory dance. He had practically already left, soaring through the trees that surrounded the open space where they'd been playing.

George followed him. "Sure, but don't fly to high! You don't want the muggles to notice you, do you?"

"'tever." Fred's reply was practically made inaudible by the wind.

"So, who was that girl you used the dungbombs on?" George asked as he caught up with his son, they were alone right now, the others were all walking back to the house.

"How do you – " Fred started, looking at his dad in surprise, but then he shrugged, laughing. "_Isabelle_." He said it on a tone Fred and George had often used while talking about Percy back at school, which wasn't a good sign.

"And who is this _Isabelle_?"

Fred shrugged again, changing his direction to avoid a collision with an oak tree. "This annoying _girl_ who's always telling us off. She's such a nerd and she's always the best at _everything_ and all the teachers love her and she's a real pain in the – "

"FRED! GEORGE! Come down already, will you?" Molly's voice sounded across the open space. "There's some butterbeer and pumpkin juice in the kitchen!"

"We'll be there in a minute, gran!" Fred yelled back. "Anyway, that's Isabelle."

George thought for a minute, this Isabelle-girl strongly reminded him of someone else, a certain Hermione Granger... "You should give her a chance. It doesn't sound as if she's got many friends."

"None." Fred interrupted him.

"Then maybe that's all she needs. A friend." George concluded. He was kind of shocked, he had actually just given someone good advice for once. Usually it was Angelina who properly raised their kids, not him.

"What? Friends with her? No way!" Fred said.

George shrugged. "Whatever you please. But next time, at least use those dungbombs properly."

Fred fell silent, thinking. "Maybe it was a bit mean to use those on her." He quickly shook his head, slowing down a little, so that soon they were just floating in the same place. "For the other girls in the dormitory I mean, then, of course."

"Just try to be nice to her, who knows what you might get in return."

"'tever." Fred said again.

"GEORGE WEASLEY! FRED WEASLEY JR.! COME DOWN HERE!"

They quickly descended. Even little Fred knew better than to keep Molly Weasley waiting. They hurried towards the house, The Burrow, that is.

"Dad?" Fred asked.

"What is it?"

"Are you okay?" Fred looked at his dad cautiously. "I mean, after all that fuss about the Map and all..."

George nodded, a smile on his face. "I'm fine." And he was glad to actually mean it for once. Of course he missed his brother, but he knew Fred was in a better place now. Fred wasn't hurting anymore, so he shouldn't, either. As he had said when they'd said goodbye, they'd see each other again. The only thing George had to do was not to waste his life to being miserable in the meantime. That just wasn't him, and he realised that now.

They reached the front door and George ushered his son inside. There, at the kitchen table, everyone sat enjoying either pumpkinjuice or butterbeer and some of Molly's home-made cookies. They talked and laughed together, just having a good time, simple as that.

George heard them talking about the game they'd just played and obviously Fred had noticed that as well, since he hurried towards the table immediately, interrupting Charlie, who was just talking about the bludger that had prevented Fred from scoring.

"And then Albus threw the Quaffle and James did this weird thing," Fred made a weird move as if he was almost falling off an imaginary broom, "and then Albus scored!". Molly and Arthur, who hadn't seen the entire game, laughed and even Charlie cracked a smile.

James hit Fred on the head playfully. "They should've let me be a Seeker! I would've done a much better job at that. And I don't even like Keeping. And the sunlight was blinding me, so I couldn't clearly see Albus."

"Excuses, excuses!" Teddy said, who just walked in through the front door.

"Teddy!" Ginny said, surprised. James threw Teddy a dark look. "How come you're here?"

"Well, I heard about this little family meeting and just thought I'd step by." He raised his hand, in which he held an official looking envelope. "And I got a letter from uncle Percy, he's in Egypt with Audrey and the kids. It says here they're having a 'marvellous time' and that little Lucy tried to shut him in a pyramid."

Charlie, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Angelina glanced at George immediately and they all laughed. "A real Weasley, that's for sure!" Charlie said.

"He's all right then, isn't he?" Ginny asked. George wondered what had happened upstairs while Percy said his goodbyes to Fred. Since then, Ginny had been much closer to Percy.

"It seems he is. Back to his usual self, I'd say." Ron said, shrugging.

"About time, too." Angelina said. "I was starting to worry about him."

"But you worry about everything." George said, grinning. He took a sip from his butterbeer as Angelina cast him 'The Look'.

"At least Percy's doing better now." Ginny said.

"Better than James' keeping abilities?" Fred mocked, ducking out of James' way, who tried to hit him again.

"Must be, otherwise he'd still be doing pretty bad." Albus grinned.

Roxanne nearly choked on her pumpkin juice, all the others laughed, too. George chuckled as he ate one of the delicious cookies.

Family, he thought, that's what _really_ matters.

They were the Weasley family. They were the family who had gotten a second chance, a real chance to say goodbye to someone who would never _truly_ leave them, for he would always be with them, as long as they kept his memory alive.

George threw a look at the magical clock in the Burrow one last time and was glad to see Fred Weasley's clock hand pointing to the word 'Home'.


End file.
